Atlanta Dreams
by scattered21
Summary: Eric is a Werewolf investigator Niall assigns to guard Sookie, aka 'Trouble Magnet' from capture by Rogue Vampires who want to breed her w/other True Humans. T plus/Language to start; MATURE/LEMONS early chapters. A love story with humor! AU, some OOC
1. Prologue: True Humans Endangered Species

A/N:Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

_Different?_ Maybe. I hope so. _Lemons eventually?_ Do you doubt me?

So, do you prefer your dose of Eric with ice in his veins, skin the color of fresh snow, a cool cucumber (oops!) of a Viking? He's always just out of reach, skimming over the earth, selectively sampling life through the centuries. Until Sookie hits his radar, ennui is his constant companion, his existence enlivened only by the occasional unexpected meal or inevitable court intrigue. Delicious, eh? Want more, though? Like a little chocolate on top of your vanilla ice cream?

Imagine instead that Eric is a hot-blooded, virile beast of a Sookie-protector. Not an ancient Vampire with so many weary centuries under his, ahem, belt; rather a more modern male, but still long-lived, if hairy on occasion. He's as 'pure' as Sookie is, in his own unique way. Some things simply cannot change, or course. You need an example? Okay, would he be Eric if he wasn't skittish about a relationship? You get the picture.

First, though, you must activate your VIP pass to this special universe. It will enable you to delve deep inside Papa Niall's twisty brain. He's a bit of a crusty, lusty beast himself. He's also a prime mover here in this verse. I know you'll like the ending.

* * *

**Prologue**

In the beginning, there was only one **Prime Directive**:

_The existence of the Supernatural world must remain hidden from Humans._

_................_

Later, the International Tribunal was forced to add a clarification for the too-literal types:

_Second, if you are forced to reveal your true nature, do not injure or kill your Human to adhere to the Prime Directive._

................

Later still, it was apparent some members needed additional guidance:

_Third, you are responsible if you fail to meet the Prime Directive. Take appropriate measures; just don't blow the second Directive._

_................_

These seemingly simple rules had led to some interesting incidents over the centuries.

* * *

After the 2000 Worldwide Census was completed, everyone agreed the situation looked bleak. It was determined, therefore, that an interim Census would be taken in 2005. It was designed to random sample the various regions that had the largest populations of True Humans.

True Humans were highly prized by the Supernatural community. They were extremely rare; so rare, in fact, only a True Were could now accurately sniff out the pure Human stock from the contaminated. And True Weres were thin on the ground, these days.

And just what was the source of the contamination that had the supernatural groups around the world spending hundreds of millions every ten years to find and count the viable Trues?

Over the last several centuries, it had become apparent that the main culprit for the loss of pure Human breeding stock was the abundance of supercharged, supernatural dicks. Fairies, Vampires, Weres, Shifters, Leprechauns, Elves, Dwarfs, Ghouls, Golems, Zombies, Demons, Genies, Trolls, Pucas, etc. The fucking list was endless. And every one of them with a dick he couldn't, or wouldn't, keep in check.

Niall d'Varg, the de facto leader of the Americas Supernatural Council for the Procreation and Preservation of True Humans (ASCPPTH), was a tall, distinguished Were with a thick mane of snowy white hair, easily able to blend in with the Human stock of modern times. He himself had fathered hundreds of children on the Human race. He was hardly repentant, but the International Supernatural Tribunal was adamant that breeding stock 'must be preserved'.

If not, the Supers were themselves solely responsible for the unintended extermination of the Humans from their own World.

Niall secretly wasn't so sure it was such a bad thing if all the True Humans disappeared from Planet Earth. Sure, he'd heard all the so-called scientific arguments; he had his doubts.

If the pointy heads' current analysis was to be believed, TH were the only source of reliable antibodies. If, Fenrir forbid, an unchecked virus were to sweep through the Supernatural community, only Humans could save them all. It was a sobering argument for locking up every remaining True Human in a cage and forcing them to reproduce like rabbits.

But as with Human life, in the Supernatural world there is always another way. The blood sample collection program his nephew Vane Kattalakis had been running 'under the radar' for the last twenty years was a classic example. Vane's dedicated team had been working around the clock; their efforts should provide everything the Super's scientists would require to produce a satisfactory medical solution if an epidemic threatened the Were population. Anyone else? No loss.

It actually sort of slayed the astute Werewolf how completely oblivious the Human race seemed to the presence of the Supers among them. If the Tribunal's research teams were to be believed, the Supers spent most of their time off fornicating with Human females, destroying whole bloodlines with a single squirt. He snorted.

Frankly, he felt the imbalance among the races had more to do with the ridiculously short life spans of the TH as compared to the hundreds or thousands of years of life enjoyed by the Supers. Shit, he was a young Wolf compared to some and he had fifteen hundred years under his belt. A quick calculation of the potential numbers of offspring he might have sired if he'd only fucked once a day topped five hundred thousand, easily. He'd really shown remarkable restraint when it came to Human females. He also was certain most of his fellow Supers would agree with him.

And finally, the truth was, just how stupid were Human males? The Human males he'd known always seemed to be fixated on females under twenty-five years of age, trading in older females who still had decades of fecundity and fucking to be enjoyed. And Niall had never hesitated to enjoy those seasoned females. What assholes the males of the Humans had proven themselves to be over the centuries. They really deserved to have their DNA erased from the viable gene pool.

However, Niall wasn't the Head of the Council for no good reason. He'd followed rules and dictates and orders and recommendations and, well, you name it. Therefore, when the 2005 random sampling had turned up one Sookie Stackhouse as being that rarest of the rare, a True Human who'd reached puberty and not yet reproduced, they'd been elated to discover she had a brother as well.

After eagerly searching for the older brother, Jason, ready to add him to the highly classified True Human protection program, their hopes had been dashed by the young female Werewolf sent to sniff him out. Excited buzzing in the ASCPPTH underground halls had sunk to a muted groaning after the disappointing report was made available to all. Once again, the TH mother must have been seduced right after her marriage by a Werepanther from a nearby town. It was an all-too-common story.

Recovering from the unexpected blow of another potential True Human contaminated by one of their own, the researchers forgot about worthless Jason and refocused on the miracle that was Ms. Stackhouse. In their fevered brains, she represented a golden, shining Holy Grail-type research opportunity, just inches out of their reach.

In fact, some of them were thinking, why not just scoop her up and start the sorely-needed selective breeding program?

That damn, millennial-old 'Prime Directive' prevented implementation of such a logical plan. How could they reasonably be expected to meet goals if every single Human was to remain blissfully unaware of the existence of the Supernatural world and its teeming denizens? It was the bane of the Supernatural researchers, groused over after work nearly every day or night while downing a pint of blood or chewing through a particularly choice fleshy treat. For now, all they could do was to continue to demand that Ms. Stackhouse be adequately protected and a TH mate found for her as soon as was reasonable.

Several years ago, Niall had thought he'd easily solved the protection problem. He'd assigned Ms. Stackhouse, who resided in his territory, a Shifter Guardian, one Sam Merlotte. Sam had owed Niall a major favor for Niall's intervention with a female Maenad who'd fallen for him when he was just a teenager himself. Niall had arranged with a Fairy acquaintance for a love potion. Sam had deployed it and the Maenad had instead fallen in love with a white Brahmin bull. She'd eventually forgotten all about Sam, moving herself and the bull, who she mistook for her husband, to India back in the nineteen fifties. God knows what she'd gotten up to over there. At least she was off his turf.

Sam had served him well in return; the situation had appeared to be under control for several years. Then, unexpectedly, Sam had fallen in love with the rare creature and stopped filing regular reports. Since Ms. Stackhouse would only be allowed to reproduce with another True Human, Sam had to go. Fearing another screw-up getting back to the Tribunal's head, a real bastard who went by the name of Leostet when he assumed human shape, Niall had brought in his best Guardian, a Vampire by the name of William Compton. Two months ago, they'd hatched a plan to have the TH move to Atlanta so William and the larger resident Supernatural community could keep tabs on her.

Niall chose that moment to roundly curse his bad luck yet again, but only under his breath; there were spies everywhere these days. Will had been taken out less than a week ago by a rival Vampire faction for some insignificant debt he still owed on a wager made back in the late 1890's. If Vampires were only more like the rest of the Supers, but no, they could carry a grudge for centuries, seeking vengeance for slights from thousands of years earlier. He learned early, never piss off a Vamp and leave him standing. He had to give the buggers credit though. They'd convinced all and sundry that they were incapable of fathering children on humans. _'Hell, we are actually dead!' _or sothey'd told every Supernatural Council from the beginning of time. _'Only way to make more little vampires is to bite a human.'_ Totally blameless and every gullible Super on the Planet believed them.

But Niall knew better, courtesy of a piece of Super sleuthing by one of his best investigators, his twenty-seventh son, Eric. Eric had been searching for the elusive Vamp scientist for decades. When he'd finally pulled him from the earth and drug him out into the moonlight, the Vamp knew his life force was being drained out of him by the rare True Were. Under torture, he'd confessed the Vamp community's biggest, darkest secret—they had motile sperm under certain conditions. Then Eric had ripped off his head and burned the body, leaving no trace of his efforts. Following Niall's orders, he had disappeared down in Antarctica for several decades. The final death had caused a stink. The Vamps hadn't given up the search for the executioner of one of their own, but Eric's name had yet to be mentioned in connection with the incident.

Now Eric was back from his ends-of-the-earth exile. He'd gone undercover again, agreeing to run a d'Varg money-laundering business in Atlanta. Niall was semi-reluctant to trust a younger son with a job two of his most trusted had already blown sky high, but he hadn't time to hatch another, better plan. This TH must be a real trouble magnet, he thought grimly. Eric it would be.

* * *

A/N:I'm only surprised Niall isn't claiming _thousands_ of children from human mothers. Or maybe he's just lost count over the centuries?

Your VIP pass has expired. It's on to Sookie's world.


	2. Ch 1:Duped or dumped? Sookie has a plan

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

This and the next few chapters are SPOV. She's a new girl in town and she is going to meet Eric for the first time under unusual circumstances.

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**Chapter 1.**

William. He owned the biggest Ford dealership in Smyrna**. **Although that was the first fact I learned about him from his sister, it did not impress me, much. But it pissed me off that he'd been ignoring me for a week. What had changed? After six weeks of his undivided attention, I'd finally agreed to sleep over last weekend.

Sighing again over the fickle nature of men, I continued searching Lacey Street for my objective. Eventually, I spied the small, inconspicuous sign for the shop I remembered at the end of the street. I checked the storefront. Did they still have what I needed? It had been more than two months since I had been in this part of town after moving to Decatur. I wasn't sure they'd still be in business. Yep, there it was; I was set. Will would find me irresistible when I was re-born as a blonde**.** Then, once he'd had just a taste of the new Sookie and was smitten as a kitten, I'd kick him to the curb. Permanently.

Resolute, I stepped up to the heavy glass door, a remnant of a more prosperous time in this forgotten section of downtown, and grasped the handle. Although I tugged hard and twisted the brass knob repeatedly, it resisted my erstwhile efforts. I stopped, embarrassed. Maybe I needed to push it? Determined now, I focused all my upper body strength on releasing that damn handle. Nothing.

I stopped, wondering _'Was the shop closed?_' No, the hours of operation were clearly posted. Eyes shaded, peering into the depths, I could see a body moving in the background, the light rather dim. In spite of offering exactly what I was seeking, the now empty shop seemed a little forlorn. I refused to give up, and started pounding on the glass. Demented? Maybe yes.

The figure in the back moved slowly toward the front of the shop, and flipped on a light switch, weakly illuminating the interior, which appeared empty.

Waiting for what I assumed to a freakishly tall woman in a blue smock, black slacks and long blonde hair to wend her way to the front, I turned around to scan the street, impatiently checking my watch. It was nine thirty in the morning and the shop opened at eight.

She started pulling on the heavy door. I helped by pushing on my side, my eyes glued to the handle as I gave it my best effort. If I was expecting anything when the door finally gave in, it wasn't what, or who, greeted me.

"Honey, it sticks when the weather gets so damp." The voice was surprisingly deep, accented, and my eyes flipped up to those of my savior. Yikes.

'_She' _was a male, oh my yes. Very male, with blue and purple highlights in his blond do, the black clip holding his feathered bangs off his face, and what I was certain was Revlon's Navy Waterproof Thick Lash Mascara emphasizing his sparklers, a sapphire blue so unusual, I knew I'd never forget it. Yeah, this guy was truly unforgettable. Too bad.

The massive paw he extended to me in welcome had black nail polish on the index and thumb finger, from what I could see. S'okay, he seemed to be running true to form. I would have expected Maraschino Cherry, but Midnight Black was acceptable.

I introduced myself, a little shy now that I realized I would be speaking with a member of the opposing team, even if he appeared to be a defector. It was just a bit cringe-making. But then I thought of my own personal demon, all thick dark hair with dark eyes, pale skin and chiseled abs, and my backbone straightened.

"I'm Sookie." Big grin, slight dip of the head. "I moved to the City a few months ago and saw you offered a special for a complete day of your services. Umm, are you open? I'd be a walk-in. Is anyone working today?"

Immediately realizing my mistake, I could feel my cheeks starting to burn. He _was_ someone, but I didn't feel comfortable having _him_ work on certain parts of me.

"Pet, the shop is closed today; all the girls are either off or presenting a morning show on color over in Druid Hills." In addition to an accent noticeably not from these parts, I saw he had on a pink nylon bracelet. I recognized it as one being distributed by the local radio stations to raise money for breast cancer research. It fit. I started to relax. He was safe.

He had continued speaking, and catching up, I heard that the 'delayed opening' sign advising of the shop's closure should have been put up last night. He shook his hand lightly, and I was shocked to see I was still holding it. I dropped it like a hot potato.

"If you'd like to come inside, I'll just check the schedule for an opening?" He beckoned me in, and without hesitation, I followed him to the reception area. It was more modern inside than I realized. I thought of Tabitha, a personal hero, and wondered if she'd been called in on the decor. The color scheme was gold, navy and cream, with cinnamon accents. Surprisingly, it had a masculine flavor. Well, perhaps not so surprising. Compensating, I speculated, even if he wasn't aware of it.

"Sookie, do you have a last name, sugar?" Pencil poised over the large white appointment book, a look of concentration on his unfairly attractive face, I twisted around from my inspection of the premises to see that he was preparing to add me to the schedule tomorrow. I could live with that.

"Stackhouse. Are you the receptionist?" He had luminous skin, I noticed. I knew I wanted the same facials he'd been getting. He really was lovely.

"Sweetheart, I am the owner. The former owner retired last year, and I took over the business. We were closed for a while for a renovation and just re-opened in April." He gave me a very lascivious smile. What a waste of a smile, for both of us.

"Too bad the boys did not extend the reno to your front door." I knew he would appreciate the nod to general male ineptness; we were all bitches underneath the skin, right? I got a knowing smile in response, so I continued in a friendlier tone.

"Are you new in town? I moved here not long ago, myself."

"Did I forget my manners? Call me Irick. I-R-I-C-K. I am so pleased to meet you, Sookie. I hope we'll be good friends." '_Thank god for the spelling lesson'_, I thought. I also couldn't help but notice, to my silent amusement, that I'd made a small error; what I'd thought were black cotton slacks when viewed from outside the shop, were in fact a skin-tight crushed velvet material. When he turned around to grab the white-out bottle from behind him, I noticed the fit over his ass was quite perfect. Something I'd never get to enjoy, I reminded myself. The view from the front framed another treat that wasn't on the menu.

"So, honeybunch, I'll see you in the morning at nine. Can you clear your schedule until five or five-thirty tomorrow?" He smiled at me, most winningly.

I decided to follow his lead. "I'm off tomorrow. I work at the cosmetics counter at Belk's in Phipps Plaza. I sell Shiseido. Do you know the product line?" I figured it was a safe bet he would at least be familiar with one of the Atlanta area's flagship stores.

He looked at me for a long minute. "So why would you want a visit with _me_?" _How quaint._ "Won't _you_ receive a discount at Belk's spa for these very same services?"

I thought about crossing my eyes, just to break that accusatory stare. His hand was on his hip, his elbow making an appealing handle if I'd been standing closer.

"If I told you, Irick, I'd have to kill you." I smiled, a conspiratorial gesture. Then I leaned in closer. Yum, he certainly smelled good. I couldn't identify the scent, but I bet his shop sold the stuff. They always did. "It's an old story. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."

I gave him my number for his records and made my way back to the troublesome door, rather impatient for him to pull it open. It was a lovely day, and now I wanted to find a café. I had never eaten at fast food establishments, and didn't plan to change my habits just because I'd left Shreveport for the lights of Atlanta.

I had been lonely for the first month, but I'd been prepared for it when I made the move to the bigger market. Now that I'd found a duplex to rent in Decatur, the longish drive north each day into the outskirts on the 23 with a jog over to the Plaza wasn't intolerable. And my rotation always gave me one day off each weekend. I'd worked at Belks for more than three years after graduating from the fashion program at Shreveport Community College. Belks offered a generous matching funds program for college tuition if I made it into management. I planned to be offered a management trainee position within six months. Someday I would run my own store, my imagination running wild with how much power I would possess in such a position.

After I found a small café for an early lunch, I concentrated on my plans to win back William's attention while I ate my garden salad, no dressing. Once I had the full makeover treatment, my plot required I drive into Atlanta. He'd be at one of three local clubs he preferred.

Will was too old to frequent the post-college crowd venues where he'd taken me after his sister, Halliday, had introduced us, but that didn't slow him down. Halli was the reason I wasn't going to Belk's spa, of course. She managed the evening shift of the operation and I couldn't tip her off to my still hazy plans to recapture him. I'd heard she was out on vacation, but I didn't trust the information. If I ran into her, I'd probably have to answer a lot of embarrassing questions about why I wasn't seeing her brother. Better to stay off the Store's fifth floor.

Since I was working a shorter shift that day, I still had time to explore a little. I couldn't help noticing there wasn't much to do in the downtown area, the curb-captured trash a little too thick for such a prosperous suburb, while the stores were a bit faded as happens when there are more fashionable malls nearby. Even the restaurants were a little too local to attract anyone from residential areas after dark.

I started a mindless humming. Moving. It felt so good. Beneficial, too. I still needed to lose the ten pounds I'd gained last year when my high school boyfriend Sam had dumped me. Looking at it from my new mature perspective, I knew leaving Shreveport might have been prompted by my desire to avoid running into Sam and the pain it had caused. I no longer cared, now. Meeting William had given me a new perspective on how my life could go. Heck, maybe someday I'd end up living in Europe and selling my own line of skin care products to the Swiss. It could happen.

And with that, I headed off to my job, satisfied with my decisions so far and ready for my makeover tomorrow at Irick's shop. Who knew? He could be my first real friend in Atlanta. I could use one.

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A/N:The next several chapters are all Sookie POV. Errors are so mine.

Was this how you saw Sookie and Eric meeting?


	3. Ch 2: Hair Camp 101

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

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**Chapter 2.**

The previous night's near raid on Shiseido products during my shift at Belk's cosmetics counter had left me flush with extra commission dollars. Thursday nights were always busy. The too-much disposable income crowd treated it as a no-holds barred reason to stock up for their weekend activities. In my case, without a store discount, I could not have afforded much of it. Still, I'd gone ahead and purchased several new shades of eye-shadow including the Pale Zen. I'd immediately felt much better.

I would need the new shadow for Friday night's activities. Although I hadn't had much free time in between the scheduled makeup consultations and walk-ups, I'd finally resolved to lose the blue-black hair color I'd adopted when my Granmere had passed. It had been her natural color, a major clue to her Cajun roots. I'd return to the shiny blonde color I preferred. Maybe I was letting go of her just a little, I mused. It had been more than a year since the accident.

I'd been circling the area around the shop for several minutes when the parking gods granted me an unexpected favor. Offering up my thanks, I swung my Honda into an unmetered spot three blocks from the shop. I had arrived about ten minutes early and thus was able to sprint over. I'd watch from the street corner to gauge the type of traffic Irick's business attracted.

Hey, it appeared to be busy. The door was no longer stuck unless the women entering were more muscular than their casual but chic clothing would suggest. Satisfied I was making the right choice, I entered CBGB Salon, an odd name for a beauty salon, I mused. Was it a play on Max Azria's BCBG line? I'd ask my stylist. She'd spill about the name and the colorful owner once my tender locks were distracting her from my unseemly curiosity.

Opening the door, I was assaulted by the typical smells associated with women hoping to plump their assets. Thankfully, it was overlaid with a heavy vanilla almond flavor; the smell of ersatz cookies was very comforting to the estrogen crowd. I should know. The consumption of the real thing after my breakup with Sam had been the calorie-laden source of those pounds I couldn't lose.

Waiting at the counter and dressed in a dramatic combo of well-tailored black satin slacks and patterned pink silk tee, just oozing masculine charm, was a new face. I eyed his name plate (no tacky name tag for him): Felipe. Felipe regarded me with evident pleasure as we made our introductions; he was no Irick, but he was darkly beautiful in a casual Latin male sort of way. Irick was nowhere in sight. I idly wondered if they were lovers.

Felipe quickly found my name on the schedule, excitedly chittering when he saw I had signed up for the Special. I wasn't sure of all the special covered, but I wasn't going to be pissy about it. I had the money and knew from the price it would be a boatload of treatments. I'd leave the shop the delectable creature Will would be unable to resist.

In a few minutes, I was wallowing in the warm womb of the establishment, my true Southern accent and Louisiana origins completely winning over the shampoo girl. She handled me as if I had agreedto introduce her to my good friend Louisiana native Britney**. ** Eyes closed now as the coolish rinse water cascaded over my head, the slightly harsher Atlanta accents flowing freely around me, I ceased thinking of Will for a few brief minutes. I let my mind wander, random thoughts welcome. I knew Granmere would sniff if she could overhear the coarseness of these ladies. The sounds were sweet, but the sentiments expressed could have sliced the nearest baluster in half.

Shampoo completed and parked in an open slot while I waited for my stylist, I was thinking about William when an excited buzzing in the ranks piqued my curiosity. I lazily opened one lid to determine what had happened. Did the governor's wife step naked from a limo to make her pedicure appointment? Maybe a teacup poodle had escaped a handbag and was running amok in the dressing rooms? Or was it something of actual interest?

Glancing around, I saw no cause for alarm, just the arrival of the shop owner, Irick. He looked even better today, clad in stonewashed skintight jeans and what had to be a blue and white striped Nautica long-sleeved rugby shirt. I smirked. Couldn't my fellow debs see the obvious? He just wasn't available. I wondered again if he and Felipe were shagging after I saw him walk over to the receptionist and ruffle his hair.

When Irick spied me, sitting in the bay closest to the reception area, befitting my status as a new client, he stopped and stared. It took him a moment before he appeared to remember me from yesterday's visit, hair wrapped in a maroon towel or not. I quickly looked down to confirm the robe I was wearing wasn't gaping. It was. Oh well, no worries in this place. I tucked the fabric more firmly under the sash.

He nodded and made his way to me, a smile on his face. I felt a small swoon coming on, but reminded myself of the futility of it all.

"Darling. Here you are. Ready for a ravishing new cut and color today?" Up close, he was even more tantalizing.

"Well hi to you, Irick. All ready here. I'm more of a natural blonde. This black color is one I did myself and should come out easy. Do you offer baliage, you know, painting?" I'd been to New Orleans once and had my hair painted. It had looked amazing.

He carefully removed the towel, and gathered up my hair, which was so long and heavy I always tied it up in a chignon for work. Rubbing the wet strands between his elegantly shaped fingers, I noticed his nails were painted a darker green shade today. Probably needed to match an outfit he'd be wearing this weekend.

He was taking his time with my hair, tracing the hair's length from my scalp to the tips, his expression intense as he planned who-knew-what. I shivered in anticipation of the verdict. Would he want to cut it, make a dramatic change? How would I talk him down if the proposed cut was too radical? Sometimes it was dangerous to blithely enter a new hair care establishment. Disasters could befall the uninitiated that could take months to overcome. I seemed to be more vulnerable to these sorts of injuries than others I knew. (I still had the photos from my prom, graduation, and homecoming dance to prove it.) I trembled, waiting for him to begin.

Gathering himself, he leaned down to look me in the eyes. "Yes, I'll take you blonde, sugar." The wink he gave me was so good; I felt a little squirm happening where it shouldn't be. I winked back, and why not? I reminded myself I was practicing for my future with William.

"But first, I propose we cut this, divesting your sweet self of broken ends and other evidence of sad mistreatment. If I take no more than twelve inches off, will you agree to anything I ask?" Since I doubted he could propose anything more daring that drinking sweet tea out of a paper cup, considering his proclivities, I readily agree, tossing caution to the wind. As I've rashly said many times before, it always grows back.

There was a small gasp from the woman in the next bay. Since I didn't think a haircut was a gasp-worthy event, I ignored her and prepared to once again throw myself and my hair on the mercy of a virtual stranger. I hoped he was not a closet misogynist.

"You'll have my top colorist, Pammi, my sweet. Then, my best cut." I enjoyed the drama he was producing. I hated to interrupt, but I did have a practical question for the Tress Master**.**

"Does your Special package also include a facial?" I was hoping he was offering some of the same products he used on his own wondrous skin. I'd felt a foolish compulsion, repressed of course, to touch his face when he'd bent down earlier to my level. I snuck a quick look at his feet. Yes sir, those were suede tan boots peeping out from under his jean clad legs. _Wow, he really had long feet. Guess they matched his long legs. _I was snapped back to reality by the moving presence of those boots. Sadly, I could have predicted his footwear choice had anyone bothered to ask. Considering his hair length, my second choice would have Birkenstocks.

"Always" was his cryptic reply. I wondered if my facial would be before or after the color, but they were the experts; I'd abdicated responsibility for my body today; just count me as a casual observer. Experienced in the ways of the average salon, I knew better than to anticipate any protests I made would be too carefully considered. Sometimes out-and-out screaming would work, though.

I was mentally prepared to surrender to Irick and his team.

The music playing in the background was from Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, I noticed. Nice touch. I recognized it from the ladies restroom at the Store where it ran on a continuous loop.

Remembering I'd had no coffee that morning, I humbly made a last request, wondering aloud if chicory coffee was available. Irick did not deem such a question one he should have to answer. Luckily, Felipe _had_ overheard me. He darted over, suggesting he'd fix me an espresso. Disappointed, I accepted as graciously as possible. Giving me a much-too-enthusiastic smile, he told me he could tell I was a Child of the Mississippi by my accent. Irick looked quizzically at me. "You're not a native Georgian?"

Feeling just a little naughty, I shook my head_ 'no'_ and laid the Cajun accent on thick just for his benefit. "Allons, cher! Aks mo sometin." At his mystified expression, I said. "Mo chagrin."

"It's Cajun, Irick, don't you recognize it?" Felipe seemed to take some delight in goading the Owner about his oblivious reaction to my feeble attempt at patois.

"Sorry, honey bunch, guess not." The look he shot Felipe was not friendly. _Lover's spat?_ I wondered. Had Felipe blown his chances for a Christmas present this year because of me? Either way, none of my concern.

But Irick's ignorance was showing when he surprised me by asking if I was interested in Zydeco.

Before we could get into his mysterious fascination with black Creole music, colorist Pammi, as if summoned, chose to interrupt our little regional explorations.

Irick looked pleased to see her, hugging her and calling her his 'chile', evidently for my benefit. She was a stunning woman with elfin features. Easily several inches taller than my five foot six height, she would dwarf every other woman in the immediate area. The drama of her appearance included artfully tangled blood red locks and a multi-hued ouroboros tattoo on her wrist. A larger tattoo was barely concealed below her breastbone, one claw clearly visible. She immediately corrected any misapprehension about her status.

"I'm Pam and part owner of CBGB Salon with lover-boy here. You know his rep?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

She gave me an odd look I didn't understand, and then physically pointed him towards another customer, as if to send him on his way. I briefly thought it was strange he was spending so much time with me, but whatever. Guess I was the _novelty du jour._

After a brief consultation about my history in the chair and a recount of past disasters visited upon me, Pammi was ready to move forward.

"It's unorthodox in some circles, but I'm going to strip out all your color and see what's left before we settle on your shade of blonde. Only then can Irick take you."

"Can you do hair painting?" I asked, a little naively, judging by her look of disbelief.

"Just shush, girl. It's all goan be fine." She was definitely teasing me now. She bent over to stare into my eyes, as if to convince me further. However, I was not easily mesmerized. I let her continue to stare until she began to shift her weight. I was in a glorified hair salon, not a tent at the travelling circus.

"Pam, I'm getting the Special today." I told her so she'd know I had other places to be and other hands to pamper me today.

She gave me a snide look. "I'll share you only when I'm ready. Don't push me if you want my best work."

I could only pray she was not a female misogynist. If such a thing was possible, I figured it was just a matter of time before I ran across one eager to get her hands on my hair.

And so began the arduous task of turning me back into a blonde bombshell, tempered somewhat by the perks of Pam's talented seduction of new client me. I was going to be made verbal love to by one of the best, although I didn't know it yet.

It started with an innocuous question about my job. From there we progressed to my friends in the area. Since I had none, it was a dead end, conversationally. She gamely moved on to my family, building up to the inevitable therapeutic discussion about men. Really, was there any other topic worth killing hours discussing? It covered just about every social situation as the ultimate ice-breaker. I didn't know any Northern women, but I doubted we Southerners had a lock on the topic. Someone always had a hair-raising tale to share, no pun intended.

But first I had to tell the history of my family. After the usual feinting, I reluctantly revealed to Pam, my new confidant, that my parents were gone, killed years ago in a small plane crash on a trip to Houston with friends. She commiserated, asking if I had other family locally. I touched briefly on the recent loss of my Granmere. After her death by accidental ingestion of a mismarked household poison and the breakup with Sam, I had nearly convinced myself that maybe my career was all that was left to me. I did have a brother somewhere, I told Pam. Jason often took jobs on the oil rigs in the Gulf for months at a time with no communication from him, so I'd given up counting on him. I tried not to look as lonely as these facts made me feel, but I was twenty-two. It still hurt.

Pammi was instantly sympathetic. She gave me a supportive squeeze in the general vicinity of my forearm, all that was manageable with the chemicals in full application mode. While she didn't come right out and say I looked like a lost chicken in the road, I could tell she was thinking something along those lines.

Wondering out loud about my plans for the evening, traditionally a date night, I could tell she was more than ready to move into the relationship part of our talk. It was time to reveal my motivations for tackling the Special.

"Pammi, I know we are fast becoming bosom buddies. Yes?"

"You know it." She replied, pertly.

"Can you forgive me if I don't want to talk about 'it'?" My eyes were closed, waiting for the blow. Would my new hair color turn out a shade of apricot or chartreuse?

"Oh." She inhaled. "That bad, eh?"

"Six weeks and then nothing." _ Was I talking about Will after all?_

"This is the best, least expensive therapy you'll ever get. What did he do, exactly?" She was persistent, no doubt about it.

Before I could start, she asked the one question I was dreading. "Did you sleep with him?"

I shook my head, but what came out of my mouth betrayed me. "Sorta."

She started on the inquisition in earnest. I didn't blame her. I would have had the same questions.

When she had wormed every detail from me, shifting focus only to check my hair every few minutes, I felt a bit empty, but grateful. Her interrogation techniques had drained the pain, the shame and the anger from my soul. I wasn't exactly reborn, but her therapeutic techniques would have rivaled anything I saw on Sally Jessy before the show was cancelled.

Suddenly, it was time for the return of the real Sookie Stackhouse. I was moved once more to the rinse sinks, and fingers crossed, kept my eyes tightly shut, sending silent prayers for a verdict in my favor.

The mirror offered to me by my new best friend, the aforementioned shampoo girl, was the moment of truth.

"Voila!" Pammi spoke loudly enough for everyone around us to hear. "Champagne Blonde." A flick of her wrist at me. "You'll match your drink of choice tonight."

Well, not exactly my original color, but I did look amazing, much better than Carrie Bradshaw and her snooty TV gal pals.

Several heads had turned in my direction at the announcement. The looks of envy and chagrin I saw on their faces convinced me Pammi had chosen wisely. _Look out, William_, I thought, maliciously. Unconsciously, I squeezed my arms tight against my sides to provide a little framing for my assets, a move I'd perfected over the years. Always worked, courtesy of the generous help I'd been given in that department.

I looked up to thank Pammi and found her also staring appreciatively at the results of my move. Oops. I should have been paying better attention.

"Now, Sookie, let's call in Irick. Then you can have your facial and your Brazilian." She was smiling a little too widely at me for complete comfort. I hoped she was too far up the food chain to double as the Salon's waxer as well.

When I stood to move to another section of the Salon for the haircut, I found Felipe by my side, holding on to my elbow to guide me to the secluded area where Irick evidently performed his transformations.

Even though there was no point, my brief exposure to Irick had me looking forward to having his undivided attention. Well, I'd have to share with my hair, but I could live with that.

Unfortunately, Irick was engaged in a phone call in his office, which was adjacent to where I waited. I couldn't make out any distinct words, but he seemed to be shouting. If he was this agitated, could he calm down sufficiently before he took up his scissors? I'd have to remind him about the twelve inches maximum we'd negotiated earlier.

The door to his office flew open. Caught grimacing as he exited the room, Irick seemed surprised to see me sitting in the chair. He stopped and I actually saw the Southern banter mask fall into place. He nonchalantly sauntered over, prepared to charm me as he'd done earlier, but he was too late. I'd already guessed he was from someplace further North than Baltimore, maybe a lot further, judging by what I'd overheard.

Smiling to hide my unease, I suspected he wanted to ask me if I had indeed overheard him. However, he was prevented from asking because he clearly didn't want to suggest there was any reason I shouldn't have been listening.

"Precious." Delivered in a tighter voice than his previous addresses to me.

"Yes, Irick." I batted my lashes at him, enjoying the unusual freedom of flirting without worrying about the consequences.

He halted a foot from my chair and stared a little more closely at me. "Love your hair." He took complete possession of me then. His fingers began to forge new inroads into the damp curls, my hair beginning to wave now with the extra body I was forced to attack and subdue with my blow dryer every morning. He released his grip on my hair, and then unexpectedly pulled me up tight against his rugby-shirted chest, laying his cheek flat against the top of my head, his arms locked around me. I stifled my own involuntary gasp as best as I could. Was this his technique for all new clients? Gay or straight, it seemed extreme. Although maybe not for a Northerner?

"You smell delicious, Sookie."

A/N:All errors are mine on these first few chapters.


	4. Ch 3: Sapphire Blue Jaguar XKE

A/N:Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

____________________________________________________________

**Chapter 3.**

"You smell delicious, Sookie."

Eric had mumbled these words into my hair. It sent a shiver up my spine. He was a little too familiar for someone I'd just met. Didn't he know our famed Southern hospitality was extended to strangers just for the sake of appearances? The two of us had a very long way to go before I'd move him from the hairdresser category to friend. Sex would definitely be involved, so he'd never qualify.

"Eric, ermm, Irick, let go, now?" It came out a question, unfortunately.

"My error. Sorry, chica. The scents in our new salon-exclusive shampoo affect me that way. "

Oh, I got it now. He was pushing product. A little more dramatic than most, but more entertaining, too. I'd probably buy some. Wondering if Will could be counted on to act so uninhibited around me once he smelled me, I decided to buy a bottle before I left.

Back on a more even keel now, I could afford to be solicitous again. "So, Irick, phone call work out and all?" I also wanted to assess his temper, just a little. Those scissors should be certified as a lethal weapon, in my opinion.

"Yes, love, all's good." A small pause. "You do smell fine, you know. Just your natural scent." He winked at me, his sugar plum fairy persona back in place. .

I chose that moment to bend over to grab my purse, searching for my cherry lip gloss. In doing so, grace personified, I knocked off a container full of implements sitting too close to the edge of the counter. Cursing, I tried to catch it and instead ended up slicing my hand on a sharp razoring tool. "Fuck!" I yelled and then felt a blush forming. '_Fuck again_', but this time said silently, just for me.

I fell to my knees, scrambling around to collect what looked like maybe thirty or forty means of tweaking one's hair. They weren't the pick-up sticks I'd supposed. But before I'd mastered the trick of re-arranging them, I felt Irick effortlessly lift me off the floor and return me to the chair. He knelt down and gathered them in one controlled gesture, his massive paws working to his advantage.

I started to apologize when I noticed a round brush had rolled under the furthest edge of the cabinet at the corner of the space. I pointed, and he slid gracefully on his knees, bending over to reach beneath the bottom shelf to retrieve it. When he did so, his hair moved as well, parting down the middle and falling forward. I could see just a faint glimpse of his black roots at his exposed nape. _He bleached his hair._ I immediately guessed Pam did it for him. It had looked so natural, I would never have guessed.

"Sookie, you are some trouble, you know, girl?" Standing again, he reached for my sliced up hand. I saw that his hand, so much larger than mine, seemed to tremble for an instant.

Nope, must have been a trick of the light. Mood lighting, I'd noticed earlier. Not the stark fluorescents found in most salons.

He held my hand very carefully. He inclined his head to look more closely at the cut, now beginning to bleed a little more freely. In an unexpected move, he brought my hand to his face, and inhaled deeply over the broken skin.

I felt sure he was about to say something, something really interesting and unusual, when Pam was suddenly in the same space with us. She jerked my hand from Irick's grasp, covered it with her own, and pushed forcibly back against his chest.

_What weird shit was this?_ I thought, now a little concerned by the odd turn of events and Pam's even stranger reaction. _Was I in some sort of danger?_

"Eric, take a break. I'll entertain Sookie while you gather antiseptic and a bandage for her hand. Go, now." She stepped between us then and I caught her foot kicking him in the ankle area.

Irick? Hadn't she just called him Eric?

Whatever his name was, he kept his eyes on the floor as he moved away from us, leaving to gather the items she'd requested.

We both watched him go, then I swung back to stare at Pammi. Was it my imagination or did her features look slightly less sharp? Probably just the chemicals used in my treatment blurring my vision. I made to speak, when I felt a very large yawn steal the words from my brain and I gave in to it.

Embarrassed again, I started to apologize when another yawn immediately kicked in. Smiling, Pammi suggested I lie down on a couch in Irick's office until he returned and she could bandage up my cut. I slid off the chair and meekly followed her into the adjacent room, yawning uncontrollably now, my legs feeling uncharacteristically heavy. I sank onto the couch, and rolled to my side. It was the last thing I remembered doing.

________________________________

When I yawned again, I felt something very soft brush my face. It was a large gauze bandage wrapped around my hand, completely encasing it. I sat up with a start of surprise and then moaned, holding my head. I was in my bedroom. The sun appeared to be setting, judging by the window that looked into the side yard where the azalea bushes were in full flower.

This was completely disconcerting. I'd gone from resting on a couch in Irick's office to waking up in my own bed, hours later? Was I alone in the house? And more importantly, what had happened to my hair? I tore off the gauze from my hand, searching squeamishly for the cut. Whatever they'd used had worked; there was only a faint red line indicating the morning's injury. I'd always healed quickly, but this was very fast. I'd ask them later what it was when I returned. I was pleased to see that my nails were now a pale frosted shade.

I was too unsteady to move as quickly to the mirror as I wished, but I still made it into my bathroom. Hitting the switch, I was relieved to see that my hair was perfect. The color was unchanged from this morning, and the shaping done by Irick, I guessed, framed my cheeks and emphasized my eyes. He was a Master. Pulling out the waistband of my pajama bottoms (what?), I saw that my skin was smooth and hair-free all the way down. I felt the tops of my thighs. Yes! My legs had been waxed as well.

Was it possible I'd just been so sleepy I'd passed out when I got home and didn't remember slipping into my pajamas?

It seemed plausible, except I never wore these pajamas anymore. They were too tight and worn at the seams. I'd had them sitting on my dresser because I was going to tear them up to use as dust rags when I cleaned this weekend.

Before I could begin to question events too closely, I felt a strong urge to forget about it and get ready for my evening. I was going to find Will tonight and have him moaning in despair over losing me. I found I'd laid out the clothing already. It wasn't my usual pairing for an evening out; in fact I'd only worn the skirt once because it was way too short. I couldn't bend over or I'd flash the room. Stackhouse women had never needed to advertise and I wasn't breaking with tradition.

The blouse was a sheer sleeveless top, patterned with alternating wide and narrow horizontal white-on-white stripes. It was new and I'd forgotten I bought it on sale just before I left Shreveport. Paired with the too-short pale lilac tulle skirt, I barely recognized myself. The La Perla lingerie, laid on top of the skirt, was an extravagance from last year. I'd purchased the set with an unexpected Belk's bonus. It was deeply discounted at the time, and had been something I'd been saving for my wedding night with Sam that never came. I donned it now in defiance of my habit of frugality, always putting my life on hold. It molded my breasts, cupping them better than any lover I'd had to date. Not that I'd had a lot.

The lacy v-shaped sheer panties would not show under the skirt, but I'd need to be careful just the same. And a garter belt and sheer hose? Had I been knocked senseless before ending up in my too-tight pajamas? But tonight, just for a whim, I decided to go with it. The silver strapless heels would be difficult to walk in, but the three clubs I'd be searching for Will were all on the same street in the Peachtree district, so I'd be fine if I didn't need to run.

Taking one last look in the mirror to gauge my new look, I was stunned at the transformation brought about by the champagne blond shade and expert cut. For the last year, I'd been wearing dark jewel tones, the shapes more comfortable than sexy, to accent my former blue-black hair. Now, I looked like the negative image of my former self with maybe a little Christina Aguilera on top. Shrugging, I strung a rope of Granmere's pearls around my neck, sad once more. She would have loved seeing me look like this, dressed to go out. Too bad I didn't have a man waiting for me tonight.

_No_, I corrected myself, _Will was waiting for me_. He just didn't know it.

I snagged my keys, stuffed my clutch, and was in the Honda, plugging in my I-pod and relaxing into the leather seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw an animal in the hedge. It was a very tall ancient boxwood hedge that hid from view the unruly yard of the neighbors, proud owners of several pieces of children's gym equipment and three small boys. Looked like they had finally acquired a dog, and a big one, judging by how much the hedge was swaying.

Marvelous. Probably a barker and a jumper. I reminded myself to go speak with them about keeping the dog in their own yard. He was already sniffing about to locate a convenient latrine on my side of the hedge.

__________________________

I had limped into the third and final club, O'Hara's Mansion, when I realized I might not find Will tonight after all. Feeling completely dispirited at that thought, I sunk into an empty chair on the edges of the jostling crowd. My feel hurt worse than I could have imagined, and I recalled I had a good hike back to my parked car. I could have found valet parking close, but I'd been sure I'd see Will and he would drive me back to my car.

While Will continued to be a no-show, I'd garnered lots of male attention as I pushed through the crowds of college-age men, many vocal in their admiration. If I hadn't had a mission, I might have been tempted to stop for one or two.

To kill time, I ordered a Coca-cola from a passing waitress. If I stayed in place, maybe Will would eventually pass by. It seemed a good idea as I had no other.

Waiting for my Coke, I turned around to watch the college kids in the center of the room. One couple closest to me was barely bothering to disguise their make-out session in public as any sort of dance. My attention was focused on them when I felt a small brush and heard someone slid into the chair behind me.

Turning back, I looked into a pair of sapphire-blue eyes, so remarkable I knew immediately who this was, even though he appeared to have undergone his own transformation from this morning.

"Irick?" I asked hesitantly, not entirely sure I was right. Maybe he had a brother?

He smiled, but did not answer me. His hair was now a shining long black blade, sliding dangerously forward in a smooth wave over his shoulders. He was clothed in uber-masculine wear, black silk T, matching cuffed slacks paired with a black belt with large silver buckle, and black loafers. Size fourteen? He saw me looking at his feet and twitched his left foot for my benefit. He looked so delicious, I was afraid to move. He had to be a dream. No man looked this good and was unattached in a club on a Friday night in downtown Atlanta.

I watched the muscles ripple in his arms as he stretched them forward to set his hands on either side of my arm chair. My thighs were gripping the surface, it and the quickly fading strength in my legs the only thing keeping me from sliding to the floor in complete surrender. I tried clearing my throat and nearly choked instead.

A smirk quickly appeared and then slid from his face. "Are you alright now?" The tone was amused, but the accent I'd noticed again this morning was still present. He couldn't shake that telltale hint of Northern shores.

"What happened today, Irick? I really don't remember much of anything after I cut myself. Oh, and I just love my haircut. It is perfect."

I stopped. His turn, if he was going to say anything significant. Heck, he could even recite the alphabet. I'd be hanging on every letter.

"Sookie, you can call me Eric." No spelling lesson and I really couldn't tell the difference without it. I let that remark slide. At least he'd confirmed his identity.

"Wow, Eric, you look so different from this morning." And so much more _straight,_ but I kept that thought to myself.

"As do you."

I waited for him to elaborate, but like most men, he wasn't wasting time babbling his thoughts. More fun to make women guess.

"Well, it is odd running into you here. It doesn't seem like the sort of place I'd expect to find you. If you hadn't called me by name, I doubt I would have recognized you." I waited for him to eek out another three-or-four word sentence.

"I followed you."

Bingo. I was so pleased at guessing the word count, it took a bit for the meaning to sink in.

"Oh, you saw me at one of the other clubs. I was looking for a friend who usually comes here on weekends." Shit, I probably should not have told him I was alone tonight. Irick from the Salon was plenty safe. This Eric was someone I'd never met, dark, lovely, and not entirely to be trusted. Although I was prepared to spend more time in his presence.

"Something like that." There he went again with another smirk.

The easy familiarity I'd felt this morning was completely gone from this exchange. I realized he was definitely male and judging by the bulge he wasn't bothering to conceal, he was interested. I hoped I was the only reason for the display.

"I just ordered a Coke. When she comes back, you could order a drink." I was fishing for how long he was sticking around.

As if guessing the double meaning in my words, he replied, "I'm not staying."

Well, guess I'd resume looking for Will, then. I'd almost forgotten my original purpose in dressing up tonight, my astonishment at seeing Eric completely erasing all thoughts of my former boyfriend's desertion.

"Well then, nice to run into you. Guess I'll see you the next time I come in to have my hair…"

The sounds died in my throat. Eric had stood, and holding out one of those massive paws, said only, "Neither are you." He didn't wait for me to agree. When I didn't move fast enough for him, he took my hand and pulled me gently to my feet. I'd not seen him pull out his wallet, but he dropped a ten dollar bill on the table and firmly under his control, we began moving to the exit. Audible sighs of feminine disappointment seemed to blow like a wind at our backs.

I wasn't really ready to leave off looking for Will, but curious what Eric had planned, allowed him to move me outside to the sidewalk. I saw we were stopped in the valet parking area when a vintage sapphire blue jaguar XKE, custom hood ornament polished to a golden gleam, pulled into the covered drop-off area. As Eric moved forward, I realized this was likely his car. '_How sweet_'; it matched his eyes.

My catty reaction reminded me I didn't know him very well. I should be reluctant to crawl into a car with him in a City where I knew only my new co-workers, none of them well-enough to call for help on a Friday night. That left my landlord, who lived in another town and whose phone number was written on a pad of paper in my kitchen. Standing alone at the carpeted entrance as Eric paid the attendant, I felt a new vulnerability. I truly hadn't given too much thought to what it meant to move to a new city and be all alone in the world.

At the same time, my feet were telegraphing the onset of blisters and my car was a long walk in the dark. Eric was a business owner and many people had remarked on my presence at CBGB Salon today. I'd also seen the security cameras in the ceiling and marveled at installing such high tech equipment in a hair salon. Perhaps Irick and Pammi were worried about employee theft.

When it came down to it, though, I didn't get a vote. Eric politely opened the passenger door for me. When I hesitated, still not entirely certain, he gracefully maneuvered me into the car seat, buckled it, and more quickly than should have been possible, was in his seat and starting the engine.

"Forget Will. We need to leave."

How did he know about Will? Oh, right, I'd told Pam my story this morning. So much for client confidentiality. Of course, her license was from the Georgia Board of Cosmetology, not exactly the International Association of Counselors and Therapists.

"Eric, where are we going? I'll need to collect my car. I don't have to work tomorrow…." My voice trailed off again, as I mentally kicked myself for telling him no one would be looking for me at Belks. Was I really afraid of him?

"Sookie. Don't be afraid of me."

Now he was a mind-reader? Or had my expression given me away?

"I won't hurt you."

Good to know.

"Where are we going, then, Eric?" I stopped and swallowed, looking for some measure of calm. "I have to have my car tomorrow."

"A hotel. You'll be safe."

"Safe from what?"

"From others. Others like me, my kind. They have been seeking you."

I was totally confused. What was Eric? At best a Bi hairdresser with a straight alter-ego? How did that make him a 'kind'? Wasn't that sort of a narrow-minded remark, even if he'd been the one to make it?

"No offense, Eric. I have no idea what you just said. I'm a twenty-two year old Belk's saleswoman from Shreveport. No one is seeking me. You must have the wrong girl."

I didn't tell him he was starting to scare me. I was thinking about jumping out at the next stoplight, but the lights all seemed to be green for him. Must be that time of the night when the stoplights switched over.

At that, Eric actually turned his head to look at me. I made the mistake of looking back into his eyes. I started the damn yawning again, and try as I might to fight against it, I twisted in my seat to a more comfortable position and fell asleep.

__________________________________________

A/N:I believe I'd climb into a vintage Jag with Eric.

"


	5. Ch 4: Bad Boy Werewolf or Hero?

A/N:Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

Some _action_ in this chapter, but it is scattered.

**Chapter 4.**

This time, I know what to expect.

I awake to the sounds of someone breathing next to me. I feel as though I have been drugged, again. But I am more cautious, keeping my eyes closed until my breathing is steady, my heart beat normal. I am not in my bed, plus I seem to be wearing just the La Perla. Yep, and the rope of pearls. Has to be a man in bed next to me.

Still confused, I open my eyes to find Eric a few inches away. His eyes are open as well. In the dark, they appear to be glowing. Must be the after-effects of whatever he did to me. I am afraid to be the first one to speak, but I have questions. Lots of them.

"Eric, what are we doing here? And where are we, exactly? Other than in a hotel room, I mean?" I stop to take another breath. "And where are my clothes? And did you know your eyes glow in the dark?"

I wait for his response. It is totally unexpected.

"You smell fantastic." _Does this man have some kind of freak scent fixation?_

He continues as I lack the temerity to ask this question of him.

"We are alone. You are safe, for now."

He watches me carefully for my reaction.

"What are you Eric? Why did you tell me, earlier, that others of your 'kind' were looking for me?"

I stifle another yawn. Oh, no, not again. "Stop that. I'm not going back to sleep. Or whatever it is you are doing to me."

I shut my eyes before he can manipulate me into unconsciousness again.

"It doesn't work if you close your eyes. I'll have to call Pam to come in here if you continue to resist me."

Looking for a clue, I ask, "Does that mean you and Pam are different 'kinds'?"

"Pam!" He calls loudly. I hear the bedroom door open and footsteps approach the bed. Sounds as though the floor is a hard surface, maybe wood.

"Sookie. I'm sorry. This is for your own protection." She places a soft hand on my bare shoulder and once again the yawning starts. I try to resist, but not sleeping is impossible. I can only hope that Eric and Pam are really my friends.

_________________________________________________________

I awaken this time to cramping, my period inconveniently choosing to start while I am trying to cope with being the possible victim of an abduction. Would I never get a break? I wonder if maybe I'm being a little too much of a drama queen, now, with the victim thinking. Both Eric and Pam are telling me they are hiding me, protecting me from….what?

As a particularly strong pain stabs my left side, I open my eyes to an empty bed, no Eric. The lights are still off and my eyes adjust gradually. It appears I am in a standard motel room. It might be a little more upscale than some of the ones Sam and I frequented, though.

I have to find the bathroom before I start leaking. I stumble from the bed in the dark and find the bathroom door. I flick the switch and check under the sink, but my karma still stinks. Toilet paper it is.

Having cobbled together a quick fix for my problem, I can relax a little. With the bedroom still dark and no sounds coming from the living area, I begin to question if I might not be able to escape? If not, just where are my 'friends'?

In answer, the light comes on underneath the bathroom door, which I closed in my modesty over the ministrations needed to sooth my cramping. Orgasm seems to help me when the cramping is bad. The knock on the bathroom door is followed by Pam, asking softly if she can get anything for me. Why not?

"Tampax. Do you have any extra?"

I hear a soft curse from her. "No, Sookie, I'm sorry. I'll send Eric out for a box from the pharmacy next door."

Fuck, I'd rather bleed through all my pairs of white slacks for the next ten years than have her ask him to do that for ME! "Pam, no, please, don't ask him. Could you get it, instead? Please?"

"He's used to it, does it all the time, Sookie." I start to protest again, and she cuts me off. "Don't worry, I'll do it. But Eric will have to know about my errand." She pauses for a long moment. "I could tell a fib, I guess."

"Thanks, Pam." I sniff, feeling a little emotional. "I really appreciate it. Super Plus, please." I settle back down, satisfied if still crampy. I start the water for a quick bath while I wait for her return.

As the water is running, I wonder why Eric does it _'all the time'. _Maybe as part of his cover as Irick? For Pam? For some other woman, or women? Not having time to think much about it before, as I settle under the bubbles coating the water's surface, I now wonder if he's married. Surely not to Pam?

For reasons I don't want to examine, I feel a very small twinge of jealousy. Now, that is a first. I've never been jealous of a boy in my life. I'm not jealous of Will, just angry with him for the nasty way he's treated me. And Sam seemed to have spouse potential. He was steady, decent in the bedroom, interested in having children, a big family of his own with multiple brothers, sisters, cousins, etc., but he was boring.

Now Eric, whatever his preferences, just seems to 'do it' for me. I think again about how he looked at the last club, when he was sitting behind me, his arms tented over mine. I remember my crazy thrill at seeing him in a public place, and my shock over his coal black hair, styled in a sleek, elegant curtain. With the visible pieces of him so compelling, I wonder if I could resist the so far non-visible pieces. Damn, he really is a promising candidate, so very delicious.

My fingers drift to between my legs again, my earlier efforts unsatisfactory and thwarted by Pam's interruption. Stroking down my inner thighs, I could almost see the top of Eric's head, my fingers clenched in his hair, my palms sprawled open over his ears. I could feel me straining, pushing his questing tongue flat against my center as I squirm from the swollen achy feeling left after his earlier sucking and nipping. His firm, beautifully sculpted lips would be a deep red, bitten and slightly puffy, just his upper lip visible as he continues to insistently push his face into me. Jesus. His eyes, that brilliant unusual shade of sapphire, would be burning with a holy, cold blue fire, a smoldering flame spitting shards of crystals in my direction, his gaze locked into mine. My hips start to push up against my own fingers, the chill of the porcelain tub underneath me impervious to the heated water as it sends small cool shocks to my skin.

Without warning, another knock on the door breaks my concentration.

"Yes?" I know I sound frustrated. Let them wonder.

"Sookie, you okay? No sounds of splashing." _Groan._ Eric has broken into my fantasy of him. Oh god, he is just on the other side of the door. Does he see visions of me, naked, in the bathtub? Is he playing at his own fantasy?

"Fine, Eric." Time for some teasing. "I'm naked and alone in the bathtub. Come on in; check for yourself." I wait, tense now.

"Can't. Sorry." He mumbles. It is quiet for a long while, and I guess he's gone back to the living area or another bedroom. I slide down into the tub again, the water splashing over the sides. I say a curse word, and then sit up to move a towel over the big puddle I've made.

The door flies open as I twist over to grab my towel from the top of the toilet seat. Eric halts, staring at me. His eyes are raking over my body, taking in my ungainly position, the girls poised smorgasbord style on the edge of the tub, my face beginning to flame red. Is he memorizing this, or what?

I notice he doesn't say '_sorry'_, or make any apology at all before he backs out of the bathroom door, shutting it completely behind him.

Before I can gather my wits, file a protest, or just blow a raspberry in frustration, Pam's returned, cheerily announcing she is leaving my package just inside the bathroom door. Definitely time to get dressed and leave the john. All that's available to me, besides the stained underwear I've had on for at least twenty-four hours, is a thin cotton robe hanging on the back of the door. I don it, drop Granmere's pearls in a pocket, and tampon firmly blocking for me, open the door to begin my campaign for information. What the fuck is going on?

I'm not exactly shocked to see that Eric, still wearing the same clothes as earlier, looks surprised to see me in a robe. What? Was he thinking I'd come out in the La Perla? Maybe naked beneath a towel, cotton string the odd piece of fringe?

S-O-L, my friend.

Adjusting his expression, Eric now looks uninterested in my resourcefulness in employing the robe. I am, in fact, naked under it. The delicate underclothes are drip drying on the shower rack. I'll throw them on the A/C blowing chilly air in the room if strictly necessary. I hate crawling into wet underwear. Worse than rolling back up a shucked wet bikini over goose bump-covered flesh.

"Great look." Yeah, guess he was hoping for more.

"Is there a problem, Eric?" I'd start biting off my sentences if that was protocol.

"I've caught some scents…. You may no longer be safe here. We'll leave as soon as you are ready."

Grateful that he'd risked choking to death to deliver so many words, I catch that his accent is much more guttural than earlier. I smile; his voice_ is_ hoarser now than when he couldn't see me from behind the bathroom door.

"Some clothes would be excellent." I wasn't hopeful about the prospects of roaming the streets of Atlanta in just a thin terry robe, replete with damp underwear and heels. One man's fantasy is another woman's nightmare, etc.

"No time to replenish the clothes. We have your clutch and your stuff from earlier is hanging in the closet, Sookie." He nods at the mirrored doors. "Please get dressed."

He waits. Ok, so I walk over to the closet and retrieve my blouse and tulle skirt. I'll look like a slut, wearing this during the daylight hours.

I head back to the bathroom with my bounty. He calls over my shoulder. "Fifteen minutes." Great, cramps and I am on the run with a psycho hairdresser and his tattooed sidekick.

I'm just finishing doing up the skirt when there is another soft knock on the bathroom door. "Sookie, come out now." He is whispering, voice so low I can barely make out his few words.

He twists the knob, opens the door, and hands me my shoes. The box of tampons is clamped under his arm, and he swings me effortlessly up against him after the shoes are fastened. "Quiet" he whispers into my hair. The wind is blowing through the open window, swirling the curtains around and over the wall AC unit.

"They're here already. Pam is distracting them by leaving in my car with another woman. She's found a hotel guest who looks like you from a distance. We'll have to travel on foot." Judging by the look of disbelief on my face, he realizes he'll need to give me a little more.

"We're going out the window. There's a ledge that will take us to the flat roof, and I'll be able to jump down, even carrying you." Still whispering, as if we are starring in some grand spy movie, filmed in Europe in the sixties. I'll be Simone Signoret and he can be Yves Montand.

I'd looked earlier at the phone set in the room and realize now that Room 724 means we are on the seventh floor. I wonder if all the fumes from the hairspray have gone to his head and created these insane delusions. I'm just another small town girl from Shreveport. Sookie Stackhouse, that's all.

Before I can stop him, he's torn a strip from the edge of the sheet covering the bed. Fashioning a make-shift blindfold, he slips it over my head but leaves it loose. For some reason, this frightens me more than anything that has happened. "Why?" I whisper back.

"So you won't see and start to struggle. Stay limp and I'll carry you."

Truly terrified now that he might actually drop me, I start to shiver. "Give me the tampon box. I don't want to die over something so random." Opening the box, I shove an emergency supply into the clutch, drop the box on the floor, and it's time. He tightens the blindfold over my eyes, and secures it in place.

"I've got you, Sookie. Just remain quiet and limp."

Easy for him to say.

The air blowing in through the window brushes against my face. Eric has draped me, stomach down, over his shoulders. I think it's called a fireman's carry. Wish I'd put the wet underwear back on now instead of stuffing it in my clutch. And then, we are outside and he is moving along the wall. I can hear sounds from the street below. I concentrate on not tossing my cookies and try to remain as limp as possible.

In a few minutes, I feel him stretch out, the action accompanied by several loud cracks and pops. An eventual thump tells me we are on another flat surface. Must be the other roof he mentioned. I guess this means we are safe, for the moment.

He removes my blindfold. Actually, we are almost half-way down the block from the nearest building, which appears to be a hotel. Wait, was that_ our_ hotel?

"How'd we get here?" I ask, futilely. He doesn't answer, shushing me, his warm finger pushing against my mouth. It is the first intimate skin-on-skin with him tonight, and I shiver as his heated touch warms my chilled lips.

Without thinking, I push his finger away and lean forward to kiss him, grateful, and settle my lips against his cheek. His skin is super-heated from the effort he expended making our escape. I look back to our hotel, and notice there is a man in a dark suit, standing on the roof now and looking in the wrong direction, obviously searching. I start to believe in Eric and Pam.

Eric sees him at the same time and crouches below the parapet wall before we are spotted. He has some momentary trouble with the roof door. I almost conclude that it is locked when he pulls it off the hinges, leaving it hanging half open as he sprints down the stairwell. This building is a few stories shorter than where we were staying. In minutes, Eric has reached ground level, exited to the underground parking garage, and secured a car for us, stealing an older model rental sedan from the packed enclosure, bitching about Pam taking his Jag. I huddle down into the seat, sweating with fear. I notice that Eric, after all his exertions, doesn't seem to have a hair out of place, or even be breathing hard after that stairwell work out. He must exercise like a maniac.

Still tense, his shoulders bunched, I wonder how I could ever have mistaken him for a mild-mannered hairdresser from up North. He is exuding danger and sexuality at the moment, that heady combination of masterful decision-making and assumption of command that causes women to simply lose control of their senses and spread their legs. All that fabulous superior gene material just sitting there, bottled and ready for the taking, I can't help thinking.

His cell phone vibrates and he answers, Pam advising him where to pick her up now that she's ditched the clueless hotel guest. We are quiet for the brief drive to collect Pam and garage his car, me thinking that perhaps I should hang with Eric and Pam until this mystery is sorted. Plus, I don't have to be back at work until Monday morning.

Eric isn't speaking, but I'd like to ask him about his hair, and why he's always talking about scents and smells, and who it is we need to fear, but before I can frame the questions, we see Pam and pull over for her. Planning ahead, she has picked up some food from the convenience store and shares it around with me once we have secured the Jag and are back on the streets. I'm hoping to switch to another car soon; the rental smells like dirty socks. Eric's sensitive nose must really be suffering.

While we are eating, I try once again to get some answers and am met with silence. Although it is clear there is something going on tonight that involves at least one of the three of us, I'm suspicious again of their motives.

"Eric, at least answer one question for me, please?" I catch his eyes staring at me in the rearview mirror and smile.

"Try me." _Great_. Now he was down to two word answers.

"Did you jump from a seven story building tonight?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I am a True Were. I can do just about anything."

I'm confused. What is a True Were? For that matter, what is an Untrue Were?

"_Were,_ Eric? I don't know the word. Could you spell it?"

"Werewolf?" He doesn't bother to hide the disbelief in his voice.

I feel panic set in. They are psychotic. Just when I was starting to believe in Eric, too. I have to get away. But I'm too late.

"Pam?", Eric asks.

I try to turn away from her, but then the yawning starts again. Soon I'm curling up into a ball in the backseat, head resting on my forearms. I fall asleep, angry with myself but unable to resist whatever Pam has done to me.

___________________________

Irritated as hell when I awaken, I find I am once again sharing a bed in another hotel room with my deliriously handsome captor. Now, though, he has shed his clothes and is sleeping in just his boxers. Someone has taken off my skirt and blouse and put me into the still slightly damp lingerie. I hope it was Pam.

I listen to his breathing for a few minutes, but can't tell if he is asleep or pretending.

"Faking it." He answers.

"Can you hear my thoughts?" That would be impossible; what a dimwit question.

"Umm…..not really, no." He shifts on his side to face me. "It isn't your thoughts I hear." He waits for me to ask another question.

"Eric, you and Pam are going to let me go, right? Kidnapping is a federal offense, you know."

In the silkiest voice imaginable, he suggests I go ahead and leave. I'm free to do so at any time. Save him and Pam a world of hurt. No objections from them. His assignment would simply be given to another Were. Maybe I'd even like the new Were. He could return to his cover at the Salon and resume his life as Irick.

"Stop. Again, all you've done is raise more questions with these so-called answers of yours. Since you inexplicably now seem agreeable to holding a conversation with me, could you begin with an explanation of the term 'were'?"

He nods in agreement. "I am a Werewolf. I have a second form from the one you see now. When I shift back from that form, as I did yesterday afternoon after you left the shop, I revert to my original imprint. And man, I get so sick of having to bleach my hair every time I shift. Pisses Pam off as well; she does all the work."

"You expect me to believe you?" I am incensed now; how gullible does he think I am?

"Watch." He extends his hand in front of my face. Even in the darkened room, I can see that something is happening to it, the knuckles are cracking, the fingers elongating, nails growing. I shriek for him to stop and he does, the hand reverting to its previous human shape.

I think furiously for a minute. I will not panic or scream again. It might excite him. In fact, it appears that his eyes are glittering, along with the glowing bit. But it might be just the reflection from the lights atop the adjacent downtown buildings shining in the hotel windows. Better not to ask.

"Sookie, I am a rare creature, just like you. As a True Were, and there are very few of us left in this world, I am able to shift just a part of my body when I choose. It is a rare gift, and not many know I can do so. Will you keep my valuable secret for me?"

The intensity of his voice, delivering this little speech in a low throaty growl, has acted on parts other than my brain. Oh my, sharing a secret with a Werewolf. Who knew it was such a drool inducer? But I'm still skeptical.

"Wait a minute, Eric. Did you just hypnotize me into believing I saw that shifting thing you did?" I paused. "How do I know it was real and not a hallucination?"

"What would convince you? Will I have to spend the next several hours shifting back-and-forth before you believe me? That would be tiresome and waste valuable time. Would you consider taking it on faith until you can prove otherwise? If so, you could move on to asking other questions."

I see the logic in this, and agree to proceed. We'll hold the Werewolf question for now. Although I'm beginning to believe in him.

"So, does the wolf part explain all the scent and smell references you've made so far? And can you explain about not reading my mind but knowing my thoughts?"

"Sookie, they are connected. Your scent, so very sweet and tantalizing to my wolf's nose, is the key to your thoughts. You know about dog's noses, right?" When I nod this time, he continues. "So, I can read your reactions, your emotions in your scent. The rest I guess at, based on the context, your expressions, and your speech patterns."

"So you know when I'm feeling happy, or sad, or angry…." I stop, remembering my earlier reaction to his voice. Before I can blush, he moves closer to me, voice that same throaty timber from a few minutes ago.

"Yes, I can tell when you desire me, like you do right now." He stops and waits for my reaction, and then gives me a genuine smile. "Yes, I'd like to as well, Sookie. You are a very alluring female. And I promise not to bite."

"Wait, Eric, what about my…my, you know, having my period?"

"Would you tell me you don't want me, then? I'm only a young pup by my pack's standards, barely one hundred and twenty years of age, but I have never failed to please a female." There is a hint of pride in his voice, but I don't want to ask just how many pack females, or human females, he may have _pleased_ up to this point.

"If you are reluctant because of the bleeding, don't worry. It is only fresh blood that excites me. It doesn't qualify." He stops, then seems to think of something. "Pam can temporarily stop the cramping and the other if that is the problem?" I'm beginning to think he won't take no for an answer tonight, and now I've switched to being very interested in this offer.

"Okay, can Pam do it from the other room?"

"No. She'll need to hold your hand to say the words. Shall I call her in?"

'_Why not?_', I think. It's been a weird night; what could be any stranger?

"Do it, Eric. I'll believe you when I see it."

In a few minutes, I'm stunned into silence; Pam did exactly as Eric requested. We are once again alone in the room. I make a quick trip to the bathroom and return to find Eric sitting Indian-style on top of the sheets, waiting for me.

"Do you have a condom?" I'm trying to be practical as Eric, growling softly, wraps arms around me and pulls me down on top of him. He covers my face and neck, licking me with his hot, wet tongue, going slowly. His hands, warm and dry, are sliding up and down my sides. When I start to respond, he moves to release my breasts from the designer bra, and is excited to discover it snaps under the arm, not in back. I break away when the bra comes off and feel my intense reaction to my nipples scrapping across his chest. I ask the question again.

"I have no diseases." He looks askance at me.

"No, I've been tested since moving to Shreveport." He cocks an eyebrow at me. "Listen, what happened last weekend, well, it wasn't an exchange of bodily fluids." I'm blushing and Eric is nuzzling me again, clearly thinking there is no more reason to hesitate.

"Hey, I'm sorry to ask, but I'd still be glad to see you in a condom." My voice isn't strong, but I'm feeling firm about the request. He sighs, and pulling his wallet from the stand, slips out a foil packet. _'See, he had one all along'_, the voice inside my head chides.

"I'll warn you now, Sookie, it will probably break." I stubbornly say nothing, certain he won't decline what I'm offering. I'm right, of course.

"Okay Sookie, I can tell how you feel. Why don't you roll it on me?"

"Maybe we should undress first?" The stripping off of his boxers and my panties, backs turned to each other, is achieved in matter of seconds. It isn't as romantic as I'd hoped, actually.

Now lying quietly next to Eric, I'm shy about looking at his body.

He moves back on his side, and cradling my neck in his hand, seems prepared to try another trick in his arsenal to recapture the mood.

"Have you ever mated with a Super before?", he asks.

"What's a Super? Oh, you mean a Were?" I pause. "Wouldn't I know if I had?"

"We are different from Humans, Sookie."

"How?"

"I, for one, have incredible stamina." He says, a hint there of ego.

"Amazing, Eric. Do you tell all your sex partners this before slipping it to them? It must really increase the pressure, huh?"

"It is just a fact of nature, Sookie." He says, Mr. Humble.

I stumble over my response a bit, but there's no mistaking my intent. "Eric, I'm sorry, but I'm suddenly not in the mood anymore. Do you mind?" I sit up, pulling the covers over me and wondering if Pam can hear us in the next room. That would be awkward.

A masculine sigh again, but this time there is a resigned quality to it.

"I'm sorry. Was it too much talking? See why I don't say much?"

That last comment further irritates me. "You mean, if you remain mysterious and deadly, the ultimate Were warrior type, you always get laid? Talking is for pussies, that sort of thing?" I sound a little angrier than I intended.

"Do you feel like sleeping next to me tonight or not, Sookie? I can move down to the floor, if you wish. But I cannot leave this room. I won't leave you alone for what's left of the night. It isn't safe." He looks carefully at me. "I told you before this; if you wish to walk out that door, you are free to go. But I'd still like to protect you."

"No, I'd like you to stay here, but I am going ask you take the blanket and the coverlet and move over by the door, Eric. I hardly know you, but for some reason I do believe you and Pam. And right now, I'm feeling like I need more sleep. I'm so sorry for teasing you just now. I didn't mean to offer and then change my mind…. Maybe later, okay?"

"It's okay, Sookie." And he does agree, making a bedroll on the floor in front of the door. It hurts to see, but he turns on his side to face away from me. I watch his movements and wait until he's no longer making adjustments before rolling the sheets around me and preparing to sleep. I hope I dream of clean underwear and a change of clothes. And tomorrow, I'm going to insist they tell me who is after us, and why.

A/N: I've been thinking about Eric as a Were for a very long time.

All errors are mine. Guess I've fallen in love with the use of the Italic font in Word. Sorry.

_Is some angst coming? _Yes.


	6. Ch 5: Contamination is a 4 Letter Word

A/N:Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

After such a big first bite of five chapters, you really need to swallow, carefully, please. No accidents on this watch.

This new chapter is chock-full of explanations for Sookie. And maybe just a small promise of how tasty a Were like Eric might be, if Sookie could summon up the nerve.

Since this is such a different-verse, drop me a line and let me know what you think about Eric as the big bad Wolf. All comments, positive or other, are welcome.

_____________________________________________________________

**Chapter 5**

"What time is it?"

My question wasn't answered because I was alone in the hotel room. Eric, if that's who he was today, was gone.

Pam wasn't. Always polite, she knocked before entering.

"'Lo. What time is it?" Rubbing my eyes more for emphasis than comfort.

"Late, around one. Ready to move?"

"Pam, do you have time to tell me what's going on?" Plaintive, I wasn't hoping for much from her.

"Yes, some, and it isn't fair to keep putting you under. Humans are too fragile. I won't do it anymore." She gave me a warm smile and I felt the knot in my stomach begin to relax.

"Get dressed, Sookie. We have some casual clothes you can wear today." Big grin. "Want to burn the others?"

"Don't know. Did I wear them more than a couple of hours, with all the changing?"

"Sookie, you are a treat I can't resist." This was the Pam I recognized.

"Better you than Eric, Pam. What's he doing?" I hoped we could be friends. It would help if she'd tell me.

"He had to rehearse this afternoon. He's gone to another….." Her voice trailed off.

"Rehearse what? His Ninja moves? Leaping tall buildings? Does he think he's Supe-R-man?"

Was that a giggle from Pam? Way out of character, what with all the mind control games she'd been playing yesterday.

"Let's have some lunch and I'll fill you in, Sookie. We believe you are safer during the day. Dress now, please. I'm ready to leave. And, some good news; Eric got us another car this morning. Unbearable smell in that last one." Involuntary wrinkling of noses by both of us, remembering.

I now saw the clothes on the dresser. Not my first choice, but I hustled through a clean-up with some toiletries Pam had left for me. Hair still looked fine, and although I was mostly unrecognizable today, I no longer yesterday's champagne-blonde bombshell.

When I emerged from the bedroom, Pam was impatiently waiting by the door. My clutch was in hand, Granmere's pearls safely tucked inside. The white room card key, abandoned on the coffee table, was starkly visible evidence of our imminent departure. Giddy, I said, "Let's jet." And we were gone.

When we emerged from the underground garage, driving yet another boring tan sedan, the sun was shining, the sky a cloudless summer blaze of blue. Another standard issue day in Atlanta.

As we turned onto a large thoroughfare in downtown which I didn't recognize, last night's talk with Eric of werewolves and mind-reading and danger from a supernatural source seemed laughable. I almost expected Pam to tell me the whole thing was a hoax because Eric had wanted to sleep with me. 'Definitely Bi' I thought again. Maybe they both were and this was some amusing game the two of them played when they hit a new town. Although I couldn't really explain the hand shifting by Eric I'd witnessed, unless I'd been hypnotized.

Now that Pam seemed to have the traffic and directions under control, I was bubbling over with curiosity I couldn't contain. I'm sure Pam felt it because she nodded once before speaking.

"Yes, Sookie, you have stumbled upon a poorly-kept secret, Prime Directive be damned. There _are_ things that go 'bump in the night.' And Eric and I happen to be a part of that secret…um…society." She turned sideways to face me, briefly, and I saw her eyes were orange with lavender swirls now.

Before I could react, she said. "Contacts." A pause. "Who do you think invented them?"

I still wasn't up to an answer. Since it was meant to be a rhetorical question, she continued.

"We are about forty minutes from the town we'll be staying in tonight, name of Panthersville. Ever had occasion to visit it?"

Numb with surprise, I shook my head. Wasn't it south of Decatur?

"Yes, and while I drive we'll have your first lesson about the hidden world that co-exists with your own." I nodded in agreement; sign me right up for the secret handshake and decoder ring, or whatever. I wanted answers.

"Sookie, have you ever had a premonition that something might happen, and then it has?" I managed to squeak out a negative, my throat feeling strangely constricted. What _was_ about to happen?

"Silly me. Or course not. Wrong lecture. I'm switching tapes now. Anyways, Humans with a special type of Supe parent have swelled the ranks of famous clairvoyants since time began. Hmm, ever known someone who claimed she could read minds?" I shook my head again, all I could manage.

"Never wondered why certain people are incredible athletes and others clumsy oafs?**"**

This was an easy one I could actually answer. "Truthfully? No, Pam. I think about my rent, and the cost of gasoline, and…" She cut me off.

"How about what causes some humans to be drawn to medicine, while others choose the martial arts or professions that glorify war and death? Or why some prefer the beach while others prefer the mountains?"

"Just preferences; there's nothing weird about that. What does this have to do with Eric believing he's a werewolf? There's a medical name for his sort of delusion. I saw it on the Discovery Channel last year."

She waved her hand, dismissing my response. "Why do some people heal from injuries that would instantly kill a 'normal' human? How do you Humans explain the inexplicable?"

"I don't know. Aliens? Pam, tell me or I'm going to explode from anxiety."

She turned her head again. The orange and lavender colors were in motion now. I felt a little queasy as she stared at me, carefully assessing my mood, I guess.

"No, we Supes invented Aliens. There is no such thing, sweetie." Yeah, like I believed that one. She continued, though.

"Let's see, to answer in the correct order, it would be second sight, telepathy, superior motor skills, healers, warriors, hardship adaptability and regeneration. Sound right to you?" she asked. I nodded; why was I feeling something bad was coming?

"Yeah, I guess. Are you telling me these qualities, real or imagined, are somehow connected to you and Eric?"

She nodded, with emphasis. Was I truly ready for the explanation? "How?"

"Sex. Sex with Human females has contaminated your world's bloodlines. You are our children now." Sex? Well, that was just comical. Hadn't Eric tried to nail me last night?

"So if I'd slept with Eric yesterday…?" Then the dialogue from a vampire movie I couldn't place popped into my head. _'Listen to them, the children of the night. What sweet music they make.'_ Ewww. My question remained unasked, but she knew what I meant.

"The blind leading the blind. No, if you were _im-preg-na-ted_ by Eric, your child would carry some Werewolf characteristics." _Impatient much, hon?_

"No danger of that happening, Pammi. For one, I'm on the Patch." She merely rolled her eyes in response to my self-satisfied tone.

Halt. Classic delayed reaction._ "'Wolf babies?'_ I screeched silently

The most awful images now floated before me; I could see it all unfolding. I'd be in the delivery room, the kindly obstetrician staring in horror between my legs as a furry creature with little paws crowned. The nurses would begin screaming, the CNN television crews would arrive instantly, fortuitously shooting another story just down the hall. Vulnerable, I'd still be in the stirrups, straining and looking like shit. And would I have a litter? Oh-my-god.

Resolved! Don't let Eric's very pretty dick, which I had, err, peeked at, anywhere near me. Ever. Shit. Now, I was feeling majorly deflated about seeing him tonight.

"So, you're telling me that Eric's a wolf, but he's a Human as well? His parents were mixed, right?"

"Stop. No. Back-up, erase, re-set. Eric's a full-blooded True Were, with all that entails. And you, my dear, are True Human."

"Would I have little Weres or little Humans?" _Damn_. That question just slipped out. I was both annoyed at my lack of restraint and desperately hoping Pam would answer it.

Naturally, she didn't.

"Let me finish my lecture first, right?" I decided to keep quiet.

"So, the clairvoyance, the telepathy, the super human strength, etc.? Remember how we started, Sookie?" What, did she think I was an idiot?

"Well, if you can remember the examples, each of those characteristics is well-recognized in our world as indicative of recent sex…contamination of the Human mother by a Super. Ummm, do you understand?"

"So, Pam, there are more than Werewolves? Like what? Vampires?"

"I've memorized the Tribunal-distributed literature, required reading for all Supes these days. Here goes. And, remember, I'm generously summarizing about three hundred pages of text for you. Pay attention." I nodded.

"In the order I've described, Human mothers would have mated with members of the Fae, Vampires ('_we guess_', she carefully qualified), Shifters, Elves, Werewolves, Mermen, Trolls, and Demons."

"H-Human life is diverse." I stutter

"No. Human life is contaminated by us, the Supes." We had stopped now, ready to pull off Highway I-20 to take 155 into Panthersville, an oddly-named little town.

"Pam, let's just stop talking. I want to find the restaurant. And Vampires can't make babies. Everyone knows that from the books and movies, right?" I was triumphant, having found a gaping hole in her 'explanation'. It made the whole discussion a waste, in my opinion.

"Fine, Sookie, but you did ask…." Pam's attention had returned to the mechanics of driving.

I was afraid to say what I was wondering. Her explanation, or canned lecture, had been confusing. I blurted it out anyway, fearful of the answer._ 'Am I a changeling, too?' _Who was my real daddy? Was I running from him?

Pam just stared ahead, clearly exasperated with me.

___________________________________________________

When we were seated at a table in_ Felicia's_, at best a non-descript café, I briefly wondered why we'd driven so far to the place. It didn't seem very special.

"Are you having the fried catfish, Pam?" My turn to be polite.

"I'm going to call over that Were and order for both of us. Keep quiet. This is a d'Varg business, but they don't know you."

So we were back to the danger and intrigue routine. I wondered who the d'Vargs might be in the grand scheme of the Supernatural world.

After we finished our meals of fried catfish, hush puppies, pickles, and Coca-Colas with refills, Pam suggested we use the Ladies. We rose as one, but bypassed the Ladies to stop at a door marked 'Office.' It wasn't locked, so we found chairs and prepared to wait for Eric's arrival. It was a ruse I wished we'd implemented _after_ visiting the Ladies.

"When's Eric coming?" I asked when it appeared Pam planned on keeping mum.

She shrugged. "He was at rehearsal; I expect him any time. He has a show tonight."

Since I clearly had no idea what she was saying, I had no response.

"He's a musician. The hair salon is just his cover."

"He didn't cut my hair?"

"Don't think he can? I seem to recall him telling you he could do just about anything." She grinned and I knew what she was thinking; no need for telepathy.

"Please, please tell me why I am here? Am I a changeling or something else? Is that why someone wants me?" I was whiny. I always acted this way when I couldn't follow the conversation of the adults.

"For someone who turned him down last night, you seem unusually interested in Eric." Pam was avoiding answering my questions, yet again.

She continued, "I doubt he's ever been turned down."

"Wow, can we drop this topic?" I hated blushing.

"Trust me. Next time, you'll have to ask _him_. He won't risk it twice."

While I briefly imagined the particulars of such a scenario, Pam continued, relentless in her assessment of the debacle of my near seduction by Eric.

"So, the much-vaunted Wolf's infallible sense of smell finally goes MIA. Perhaps it had justifiable reasons for staging an impromptu disappearance last night? What do you think, Sookie? You were present, I believe." Pam wasn't doing a good job disguising her laughter now.

I needed a new topic to distract her and looked around the room for inspiration. Unfortunately, 'bedraggled' was granting it too much character. I didn't see any claw marks on the walls, or big clumps of animal hair, or bags of dog chow, for that matter. Did Eric eat regular food, I wondered?

"Not that it will do you any good long term, but we could discuss Eric's history while we wait. Interested?" Pam was looking at me, probably speculating how much information she could wheedle out of me with her own offer to spill. I nodded, just to move the clock forward. Dang, I knew nothing at all, compared to her.

"Eric may have told you that you could leave any time, right?"

Again, I nodded. "But, I'm not going. I don't want another Were to be…tracking me. I'm off work this weekend and my boyfriend has disappeared, as you know." I hesitated; sharing was difficult. Lately, I lacked much practice. "I liked Eric when I thought he was, you know, gay."

Pam did lose it then. When she had regained some measure of control, she rolled her eyes. "I _knew_ he was laying it on too thick. I tried to tell him; he's so out of touch after being gone for thirty years, playing wolf. But, as you found out, Eric knows everything. So very typical for a Were who has just recently reached maturity."

"Maturity? He told me he was one hundred and twenty last night; I knew he was full of shit." Thank god something finally clicked into place. No way was he what he said he was either. Hah! He forgot to give that detail to Pam.

"Sookie, he might have rounded up for your benefit, but Weres do not age like humans. True Weres attain their majority even later. Eric did not mature until he reached the age of seventy-seven in human years. I think you Human women have a term for it, even though you don't know the root cause. Peter Pan syndrome. Sound familiar?"

I finally accepted that the only way I could continue this conversation was just to suspend all rational thought. Maybe I'd wake up in my own bed soon and remember I'd eaten Italian for dinner. For now? Treat it as a waking nightmare; pinching self so wasn't working.

"So if Eric's a Werewolf, and all of what you've told me is true, what are you? His mate?" No point in asking how old she was; if I was her, I wouldn't tell either.

"So not a wolf, thank you. I don't do boys, either. Thought you knew that?" But that was all she said.

"You're not a wolf?" _Don't try to brush me off; Pam. You started it, _I think.

"Okay, you are making this difficult. We couldn't avoid telling you about Eric. What if we just say I'm a healer, and leave it at that? Good enough for you?"

I flipped back though what she'd told me earlier. "So, you are an Elf?" I knew I sounded skeptical, again. But I was mentally tracing the bones in her face as I spoke; something looked 'off' but I couldn't place it. After all, how many elves did I know, really?

The makings of a scowl crossed her normally pleasant features. Maybe that was a clue to what was bothering me about the elf heritage.

"Do all fairies…."

She cut me off, thunder in her voice. "Never again mistake me for a member of the Fae. There is no greater insult in my world."

Feeling her reaction had more than made my point, I nearly swallowed my question and my tongue. But I still sought confirmation of my suspicions.

"Sorry, sorry, but do all elf healers train in mastering evasive maneuvers around the bad guys and become hair colorists?" I might be just a Human, but her story was wobbly.

"There's been no fighting, yet. I'm mostly Elf." she sniffed.

"And partly what else?" I asked, intrigued now. _C'mon, Pam. 'Fess up. _

"My mother was taken from the….the nest when she was very young. She was taken as part of a revenge raid. The marauders kept her until she matured, and then she was given to my father in payment for a debt. I don't like to talk of it. May we cease?"

I was so close to the truth now, I hated to give in. However, maybe some trauma was involved. "So you are part Human? I knew we shared a bond." I was nodding now.

"Human? Hardly. My father is a Seventh Circle of Hell Demon, certified." Her eyes were wide now, the lavender shifting so rapidly, I had the impression of flashing neon. This couldn't be good, no ma'am. I fervently hoped Dante's seventh circle didn't involve violence and murder. Did Dante even apply in this context?

Hearing the sounds of heavy panting, I wondered who was hyperventilating. Oh, me. Next, I would start seeing spots. Awesome.

And I still hadn't seen Eric. Maybe I _was_ wondering too much about the wolf. What if he was hurt? As if cued, black-and-white images of Lon Chaney, hair and beard in need of a trim, hurt and hiding in the woods, started playing on a continuous loop in my head. I wondered if Mr. Perfect needed to fear silver bullets. I'd ask later_. Keep your focus on priorities_, I sternly reminded myself, and Lon was gone.

"We've been sitting for too long, Pam. It's well past four now. Can I go home to change into my own clothes? I promise to come back later."

"Bend over, I need to check your head; you've been injured. Someone must have hit you while I wasn't looking." I'd started to kneel down when I got it. Teasing.

"Not safe at your house, Sookie. You're by my side 'til Eric is free again. Niall doesn't know about the gig tonight or he might protest. But, with the new hair color and clothes, we intend to hide you in plain sight, a la E.A. Poe. My father admired him greatly, you know, for a Human."

"Will you please, please, tell me; who's chasing me and why do I need to hide?" Didn't I deserve to know a few choice particulars? '_Why'_, for starters?

"It's so complicated, Sookie. I almost do not know where to begin." She gave me an apologetic smile. _'Poor dumb Human'_ she seemed to be thinking. Couldn't say I disagreed with her.

She was saved from further explanation by the entrance of 'Wolf-boy', my new pet name for him.

Eric had arrived in full Wolf mode today. There was nothing soft or boyish about him, his presence filling the room. I automatically sucked in my stomach at the sight of him in his too-tight tie-dyed forest green and navy tee, the quote "How I do love to hear the wolves howl" written in white flowing script across his chest. I definitely liked his button-front dark jeans paired with the scuffed vintage goat foot Tony Lama boots. Double yum; his shining mane of black hung loose across his shoulders.

Yes. Did he know how good he looked? _Never doubt it, Sookie._

Surprisingly, after waiting several long hours to see him again, I didn't have much to say. Maybe I'd forgotten just how much a well-muscled Eric was 'On' when confined to such a small space, such as the hotel bathroom yesterday**.** Or maybe I was just shy, remembering last night's activities.

He wasn't shy about being interested in seeing me, though. I only had to look South to find the evidence. _The South will rise again._ What an apropos phrase, although I was sure the long-dead members of the Confederacy would not be pleased with my interpretation. With luck, Ghosts might not figure into the new Supernatural World order into which I was being initiated.

My designated protector spoke. I had to swing my eyes back North again.

"Lost in the moment? I was beginning to wonder if you knew I was up here."

_Frick._

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A/N: TBC. The next chapter will be posted in a few days.

So any Supernatural creature(s) contamination in your family tree? Demon, Shifter, Fae, or something else? It's okay to share.

BTW, the source of Eric's wolf t-shirt quote is American religious leader Joseph Smith. (1805-1844)

I _gratefully_ acknowledge beta reader VL's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them.


	7. Ch 6: Little Red Riding Hood

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

If the last Chapter was Pam & Sookie, this one is Eric & Sookie, all SPOV. Next Chapter will be alternating E/S POV and is set entirely inside Eric's townhouse. It continues the events of this chapter, with a long lemony twist.

**_______________________________________________________**

**Chapter 6**

_My designated protector spoke. I had to swing my eyes back North again._

"_Lost in the moment? I was beginning to wonder if you knew I was up here."_

_Frick!_

Being mostly incoherent, I struggled for a comeback as Eric waited, unsmiling.

"Mr. Tinkles stopped by earlier. He wants his leash back."

Seemingly oblivious to the movie refs, Eric's eyes narrowed in response. "Pam, have we had any more visitors during my absence? Niall is concerned she's targeted for immediate… pick-up."

The Elf-Demon shook her head. "And you, Eric? Troubles?"

I cut in. About time. "What is meant by 'pick-up', Eric?"

"_Alles ist gut_. Pam, leave us."

Whoa. "Pam stays, Eric. She's been my supernatural chastity belt all day. Why send her away now?"

"You have nothing further to fear from me. My actions last night will not be repeated, ever." Repressed growl? Would I recognize one if I heard it?

Pam, enjoying herself, gave me a sunny smile. Her version of a 'thumbs up', I guessed.

I, on the other hand, was feeling vastly disappointed. Maybe Pam was right; I'd need to be the seductress now? Assuming I was even interested, I silently mouthed at him. Adult-like, I proceeded with the long-overdue interrogation.

"So, Wolf-boy, give it up. Tell me who wants me and why I'm so desirable."

"Wolf-man, to you." He looked pained for a second. Sharing information can do that to the tight-lipped.

"You won't recall any of this, but if it will keep you quiet, it's worth it. The d'Vargs heard a rumor, now confirmed, that our True Human, that's you, Sookie, would be sought out and snatched by some rogue Supes this weekend. You are on d'Varg lands, and in my territory, and I'm apparently_ idle_ per my Sire. Ergo, I am your temporary guardian until this is sorted out by others. Satisfied?"

"That's the most vague, complicated explanation I've ever heard. And still no answer as to why I'm desirable. Am I a changeling or something else?"

Eric looked to Pam for assistance, I guessed. Finding none, he shook himself first then continued. It was a strangely dog-like action.

"The more you know, the more difficult you will be to cleanse. But your cooperation would be helpful." He swallowed. Was there some Supe compunction against telling me this?

"No, not a changeling; actually, the exact opposite. You are a Pure One. Your blood is unique. I can feel it, especially." An unhappy expression flitted across his face. I'd have missed it if I wasn't concentrating on him at the time.

Perhaps this being Pure was a good thing, if Eric could feel it? I was distracted from my earlier questions by a better one.

"This is icky, but are you drawn to my blood, Eric? Remember when I cut my hand at your shop?" I shied away from mentioning last night.

He nodded, looking faintly guilty.

Suddenly, I felt much better. Eric was compelled to like me!

"So, Wolf-boy, fingers crossed you won't need to 'off' the Elf-Demon if you can't control yourself around me tonight. I smell so good and all, _sugar_." I flashed a brilliant smile.

"Again, Wolf-man, to you, Pure One. And she is _my_ Guardian, no 'offing' allowed." Inclining his head, he asked "Does the sound of chicken-fried gato interest you, Demon?"

That last remark being directed at Pam, not me, I wondered what a 'gato' might be. Small fairy, maybe? Guaranteed to taste like chicken, I was sure. Wait, I knew that word from first-year Spanish. Jesus, was he kidding? I started to protest.

"Score!" Was that a wolfish grin directed at me by those sapphire blues? Oh, crap, wolfish? Let the clichés begin.

"Sookie?" Solemnly intoned by Pam. "I haven't had a decent cat in decades. It's all the low-fat, zero-cal food hitting the dumpsters these days. Garbage in, garbage out. Today's varieties of strasse katzchen lack that essential fried lard-crunchiness." A faint sigh escaped her downturned mouth.

Alarming discussion of fried kitty aside, I stood, resolute. I was making a break for the Ladies if I had to leg-wrestle every Were and Elf in the house. If I was going to be captured tonight for reasons still a mystery, I'd do it with dignity and an empty bladder. I could ask questions later.

"Listen up, Supes. I may be stuffed in too-tight khakis and a dreary striped golf shirt, courtesy of an Elf, but I'll need another outfit, equally as charming, if I'm held here another minute against my will." I knew they'd told me earlier to leave, any time, but I was sure they weren't serious, just testing me. I was right, of course.

"Eric, our precious True doesn't look as fetching as she might." He nodded, the toad.

"If we are headed to _Clancy's for Jazz_ for the night, why not break out the bag of clothes we packed for her yesterday at her house?" Mercurial Pam had relocated her good mood. "You'll love what we chose. You have some great pieces; I can almost guarantee you've no idea how to pair them, so I'll help. Come along."

Well, that resolved the dilemma of how anyone could feel two conflicting emotions at once. I was simultaneously triumphant that I was right about the clue of the discarded pajamas and cowed by a Demon telling me I didn't know how to dress. This night couldn't get any better.

I left the cramped office in Pam's wake, sliding past Eric who carefully avoided looking at me although he didn't deign to remove himself from my path. Head down, I skirted sheepishly around him.

By the time Pam had finished reconnoitering to announce the restroom clear of any supernatural Sookie-nappers, I'd re-grown the fabled Stackhouse backbone. My entire wardrobe had been purchased on deep discount at Belks. And I'd always chosen from Michael Kors, Betsey Johnson, and Calvin Klein with the occasional one-off indulgence when my commissions were up. I needn't wear anything I didn't like.

"Sookie, the remainder of your lingerie just wasn't up to last night's standards, but I did the best I could with what I found in your dresser," Pam purred.

"Where's the suitcase?" I'd exited the stall, ready to transform from trailer trash caddy minus the golf bags into Club Sookie with some judicious help from Pam, desired or not. I'd never been to a live jazz club, nor had I seen Wolf-boy perform. Two new experiences in one night.

"Eric's retrieving it from the rental. He forgot it in the Jag last night in all the excitement. Don't tell him I told you." We smiled knowingly at one another. Until I remembered my Honda.

"Hey, we'll need to move my car on the way to the Club. I parked it on the street. It's a twenty-five dollar ticket for every twelve hours it isn't moved." Immediately regretting the pricey eye-shadows I'd purchased Thursday.

"Don't worry, chicken, it's back at your house. Relax, you're with experts."

"I'd relax more if you'd finish that sentence, Pam. Experts in …?"

"If you promise to stop asking me, I'll insist Eric finish his explanation. He thinks…." She stopped as we could both hear the approach of the size fourteens in the hallway. "The less you know, the safer for you." _Sotto voce_, then a finger to her lips as Eric entered the Ladies.

Silent, I wondered if he was going to pull up a chair. Were they expecting I'd disrobe and then emerge from the stall to model the pairings offered up by Pam? Isn't that what rich men did in the '50s when ordering designer clothes for the mistress? Those film sequences were undeniably creepy. Offended Granmere more than me, until she explained. Remembering my Gran gave me courage.

"Wolf-boy, you need an exit strategy, now." Some good-natured grumbling from him, but I was firm.

With Eric safely out the still-deserted restroom door, it was time to smash some 'Dress-up Barbie' dreams

"Pam, I'm twenty-two, twenty-three next month. Been dressing myself since I hit four-and-a-half." Eric had given in quickly, but Pam was harder to convince. By the clothes she'd pulled from my wardrobe, it was clear she'd been prepared to have me play mistress model. I agreed to a few suggestions, though, and she left me alone to prove my mettle.

When I emerged, full clothed and suitcase re-packed, I knew my MK cranberry ruched skirt and white Betsey Johnson leather halter was too hot for Atlanta's weather. Still, I reasoned I'd be inside in the AC tonight. Plus, my arms looked slender, my dark tan made doubly hot by the contrast. And last night's toe-pinchers would work. Tacky to pair leather and pearls, but it would be dark in a jazz club, right? No one from Shreveport would ever know. That thought sent an unexpected ache through me.

At least until I learned I'd be going with Eric to his townhouse. Immediate mood uplift, followed by the question, '_Why couldn't I just have changed at his place? _Followed by_ ' Oh, yeah, couldn't be trusted to choose own clothes.'_ Maybe Pam was manipulating the situation? Oh, no, not Pammi.

Before I'd see his _lair _(not again!) we had to make a bank run to drop off a deposit. So, while Eric left to collect some black cloth bags from the business safe in the back, I paced the small office, wondering what sort of bank was open on a Saturday afternoon after five. Guess I'd find out.

Ten minutes later, we were finally ready. Pam had been absent-mindedly stroking my arm for the last five. "We areso_ bored_ rattling around in this hole of yours, Eric." Yet another muffled growl from same was ignored by both of us.

"I'll change and hook up with you two after ten-thirty. Is it the_ Clancy's_ on Piedmont?" Destination confirmed, Pam oh-so-solicitously patted one of my slender arms. Who was she kidding? But she turned, appeared to spring forward and was gone from sight. So fast for only a part-Elf, I barely had time to think before the sound of her peeling out of the parking lot could be heard above the street noise.

"So, Mr. Tinkles, eh? You seem to take an eager interest in his affairs." He cocked an eyebrow in my direction, grinning as we exited to the rear parking lot. I thought of some more questions while he stowed the bags and my suitcase in the cargo of the SUV.

"Didn't you spend the last three decades south? Mexico? Tijuana? South America? And all in wolf-form, according to Pam. Legend of El Lobo, or something like it?" His manners a little outdated, he once again tried to open my car door during this exchange. When I fought him for the handle, he used this opportunity to palm my bare upper arm. It was a very warm piece of flesh he pressed on my tanned & exposed skin.

"Think I'd miss a reference for a movie project financed by the Vamps? They mostly hate the Weres, you know." Ahh, a new piece of information. My skin must have loosened his lips. Finally, a tactical advantage.

Through some deft maneuvering, he was able to close my car door for me. _It's all good_, I thought, my plan already prepared for leaping Elf-like from the car when we stopped.

"So, were you a Werewolf for the entire length of time?" I was genuinely curious and the silence in the car was growing awkward.

"Mostly."

"Where were you? Why'd you go? Did you switch forms back-and-forth? Does it hurt?" I had a thousand questions about the thing, now that he was talking.

He chose his words carefully. "Antarctica. Business. Some. No."

Ah, the clamshell had resurfaced, along with a closed-down expression.

"Eric, I shouldn't bombard you with questions, huh?"

A shake of the head from him. No distinct words squeezed from between those lips, but he could have said "S'alright." Or not.

'My bad."

The ensuing silence allowed me to think on better ways to formulate questions to get answers. And Panthersville was smaller than Shreveport, so after stopping to drop off the bags at a storefront that looked nothing like a bank, within fifteen minutes we were pulling into a large complex of brick townhouses with colonial fronts. Not at all what I'd imagined for a guy who turned furry with large canines and big feet.

Guessing my surprise, Eric sounded defensive as he explained in ten words or less that it made a good cover for exactly the reason I was thinking.

Wrestling my suitcase from his grasp, I entered the door that looked like any of the other twenty-five situated around the large concrete loop of parking. It wasn't dark yet, but the interior was cool and not well-lit. It would be wrong to say the place had an animal smell, but I could discern it was different, dark and deep. Good, though.

"Sit, please. Drop your case over there by the wall." Eric was already plopped into a large comfortable recliner. Was there a game on?

"Do you live here, Eric?"

"Sometimes," he answered, warily. I forgot I wasn't to ask questions. That would make the fact-finding more challenging.

"Pam explained some about the Supernatural world to me today." I offered it as an opening line. His turn now.

"Thirsty? I have some bottled water and beer. Maybe some wine."

"I'll have what you're having." Neutral, no pressure.

"Beer it is."

"Umm, water, please." I hated beer in bottles.

When Eric returned, instead of sitting across the room, he settled comfortably into the loveseat next to me. Yes, he still smelled very good. Evidently so did I.

I waited for him to speak. Maybe he was shy? Bored?

Ten minutes later, I was still waiting. He seemed at ease with the silence, sipping slowly on his longneck. I was bursting with repressed questions, but looking around disinterestedly.

His contented sighs rasped like sandpaper on my nerves. He broke first.

"I can smell your anxiety."

"Sorry."

"Mind if I take a shower? Only take a minute."

"Go ahead. Where else am I going to go? Something or someone is after me, and it will soon be dark."

"Pam shouldn't have told you that fact."

"Take your shower; I'll be right here."

He stood, and I once again couldn't help but admire the enhanced view.

I figured we had a couple of hours to kill, so I began looking around for books, or maybe some clues, if any were to be had. The sound of the shower on the upper floor was very distracting. I went to the kitchen in search of the wine.

____________________________

Eric took his time dressing for his performance tonight. But although I was determined he'd tell me something, anything, care must be taken. He was like a wild animal smelling a trap when it came to questions, I thought morosely.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, I noticed that he hesitated briefly to give me time to take in his transformation. Although he appeared to be the same old delicious Were, I detected a small difference. He was actively interested in my reaction. I could use that against him, stealthily, of course.

"Eric, you look ready to go on stage." Admiring voice, no pretense required.

"Right. I am."

"Was it really necessary to come over to your house tonight? Am I safer here?"

His reluctance to share was tangible.

"Sookie, it's not fair to keep secrets from you unless it is done to protect you." He waited to see if that would satisfy me. Correctly judging my reaction, he continued. "But if you don't want my protection, I'll tell you why you should. After dark, the vampires will resume searching for you."

"Why? Not that I believe in vampires."

Not answering my question, he replied, "If I didn't keep you close, they'd haul you away for their own purposes."

"Against my will? This is America, Eric. Want to try again?" Eric had been advancing on me and now stopped too close. Invading my space; I liked it and I didn't.

"But I _like_ you, Sookie. I don't like many Humans; they often reek. But you are the only True Human I know. You smell so good to me." Eyes boring holes into my face as he droned on with what was really on his mind. Same old, same old. Was the man ruled by his nose? I admitted I was hoping for something a little lower and a bit sturdier.

"Back on topic, okay, Eric?" I was as guilty as he was for mentally straying; he didn't choose to move away. Sometimes disobeying was a good thing. I continued. "I've never seen a vampire. Why would they want me? Ewww, nasty thought! For my blood, of course. Just like you do?"

Since he was standing about six inches in front of me, I couldn't miss the flaring nostrils and agitated breathing. "I'm different from a Vampire. Trust me, they want you for another reason entirely. Although your True Human blood is very rare, more so every day, every hour." Pause. "Do you like me, Sookie? You seemed to, last night." Forget puppy dog eyes, these were the eyes of a dangerous beast, and I was feeling Belle-ish. But I tried to stay on track.

"Explain the True Human references? Why did you call me a Pure One earlier?" I was so confused, on many levels. His scent was stronger now; just add it to the long list of dangerous Eric traits.

"If I tell you, will you calm down and sit with me?" Bargaining? That had to be a good sign. I had something he wanted. Like I couldn't guess the nature of that 'something.' I guess his earlier disavowals of continuing last night's bedroom activities were forgotten.

Allowing him to draw me back to the loveseat, I couldn't ignore the twinges of attraction. _My protector._ Yum. Will's week-long desertion and Sam's months-old betrayal faded into ancient history around Eric. And so did my resolve to remain aloof from his masculine charms.

Unconsciously, his hand had slipped over mine as we sunk into the cushions. I didn't protest. I could feel it; I was about to get some answers. Then I could make my decision to stay, or go. My choice. Always.

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Note: Yes, Sookie will get her answers in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy how she learns to embrace some of the _larger_, harsher truths about a Werewolf when the full moon approaches. She'll need to be thinking about protection, all meanings. **:) **

I _gratefully_ acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them.


	8. Ch 7: What Big Teeth You Have, Eric

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

Hmm, this Chapter takes place in Eric's townhouse. What would you do if you had a few hours to burn until your musician/Werewolf protector had a performance to give at _Clancy's for Jazz_ on Piedmont? Eric will think of something. He's sitting across from me in a swivel-back office chair, eyes hooded. Will I screw up this **lemon** for him?

_Chapter offers alternating SPOV/EPOV throughout. _

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BTW, LIKE THE IDEA OF WRITING BUT HAVEN'T TAKEN THE PLUNGE INTO SVM?

Announcing a new one-shot contest for Virgin and Nearly-Virgin writers! If you've always wanted to try your hand at writing fan-fiction, here's your chance to pop your cherry with Eric Northman!

You must visit the "**Poppin' Cherries**" profile for all of the juicy details: http://www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2130969/Poppin_Cherries

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******Chapter Warning: Explicit, with language*******

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**Chapter 7**

_Unconsciously, his hand had slipped over mine as we sunk into the cushions. I didn't protest. I could feel it; I was about to get some answers. Then I could make my decision to stay, or go. My choice. Always._

___________________

As if on cue, Eric sat up straighter. He must have scented my resolve. This was his chance to convince me.

"Your scent is so provocative, Sookie."

If he could remember to stay on topic, that is. I'd have to assist.

"If I don't get some answers soon, Eric, I'll be calling a taxi. I still have my cell phone, you know." My threat was an idle one. Without the charger, my cheap cell was guaranteed to be dead.

I waited. But I hadn't released his hand.

He began boldly, for him. "We Supes have ruined our best playground through reckless sexual excess."

'_Here we go again'_ I thought as I felt a familiar surge of irritation. Would intimate conversations with him always lead to me being pissed-off? Probably, unless we skipped straight to the sex. He'd tried to warn me last night, I guess.

"I'm hoping humans are not considered a Supe sex playground?" I would have growled if it were possible.

"The females are," he answered truthfully. Couldn't he smell my upset?

"Sorry, it's a fact." Incorrectly interpreting my reaction, he hurried to clarify. "But, I'm a True Were. Centuries of cross-breeding have led to contaminated human blood smelling either muddy or rank, to me." He finished, clearly convinced he'd saved himself if not his kinsmen.

As he once again made to launch into another Were-version of a swoon-fest on the many virtues of my scent and pure blood for him, I cut him off, a vicious swipe in the air his signal to shut it.

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**EPOV**

Chocolate cherry pie with whipped crème? No, Steak Diane, seared to perfection, bloody with a layer of grated black pepper? No, even better…raw North Woods snowshoe hare, heart thudding rapidly after running a fruitless crisscross evasive pattern in the snow when my shadow fell…

She was talking again. Did Sookie Stackhouse ever shut it? Constantly whining. Begging for more explanations. So many questions!! I was tired of all her demands. And, if she pushed me too hard, I'd tell her the truth about how I was feeling about her.

Still, I wanted her physically, much more than I'd ever wanted any Human. I relented briefly, beginning to describe exactly how exciting her scent was to me, when she cut me off, hand swiping through the air. I tuned out again. Thinking about her was sometimes better than being with her.

Others wanted her too, I knew, and that made her that much more desirable to me. I was Alpha, and should have what I wanted, I reasoned. But, no, I'd have to wait my turn on the Alpha status implementation plan. No pack for me yet, according to my Sire. Not until I had a mate worthy of my position as Niall's son. Plus, I had to pass some unnamed test. As Niall explained to me, it was a test I'd not know about until I either succeeded or… Well, no reason to go there. We all knew what happened to Alphas that failed. It was a rare event, but when it happened, they were never heard from again.

As she droned on, I returned to my contemplation of the perfect meal. The only thing better than thinking about food was the outlook for the season's remaining games for the Braves. IF Derek Lowe's arm held up, and Vasquez didn't get injured, the play-offs looked like a given…

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**SPOV**

I was watching Eric's profile as I verbally castigated him. I noticed his expression appeared to be a little dreamy, as if he wasn't listening to me, the corners of his mouth turned-up in a slight smile.

He shifted to face me, and stretching out his arms, bent his elbows up to cup the back of his head, lacing his fingers. The alternating large ruby and obsidian glass choker he was wearing popped out above the neck of his black silk tee, straining against the muscles in his very long neck. Suddenly, I missed his touch. He yawned.

Was I boring him? I stopped. Had I really been talking that much?

"Sookie, I'm dragging ass. Long night last night, up early and busy day today. We'll be out past three in the morning again. I'm going upstairs to stretch out. You can join me. Probably safer if you do. But it's your decision to stay here, or come with me."

He gave me a winsome look as he stood, all 6'4" of him. I hesitated. Should I tease him about taking a cat nap?

As he started for the stairs, I flashed on the idea of rogue vampires, alive, real, walking the earth and looking for me. Friday Fright Nights or not, I wondered if I was ready for meeting up with the reality, here and alone in Eric's den while he snoozed upstairs. I briefly imagined how terrified I'd be if I ever came face-to-face with a real VAMPIRE. That settled it.

"I'll grab a book and be up in a minute. Snag me a chair?"

"I'll find one for you."

Convincing myself I was making the right choice, I finally found a coffee table book on Harleys. Hard to believe, but it was either pretty pictures of choppers or selecting from a shelf of paperbacks compiling decades of baseball and football stats. I lugged the massive tome upstairs.

Eric's bedroom was softly lit, done up in an uninspiring patchwork of brown and tan shades on the spread, carpeting, and drapes. It looked like he'd made up for the decorating scheme by installing a very comfortable king-size bed, the covers already rumpled as if someone had twisted around to find the best position. I thought of and dismissed a mental picture of Eric on all fours, circling the top of the bed, head down. Nope, not going there. Think instead about the visual delight before me that was Eric, sleeping shirtless on his bed.

Concentrating in the dim light of the room, I couldn't look away from the contrast of his radiant pale skin against the quilted milk chocolate-colored sheets, his hair a tantalizing swirl of bitter dark chocolate frosting. A truly mouthwatering scene, wickedly accented by his drawn-up long legs clad in tight black jeans, resembling nothing so much as a double dollop of frozen anisette licorice liqueur. Difficult to believe I'd eaten just a few hours ago. I was faint with hunger of an undefined nature.

Tearing my eyes away from my Wolf protector, I saw there was a lamp on the bedside table and a straight-back chair set next to it, prepared for me. Ignoring Eric, lying on his side facing away from me anyway, I made to sit on the hastily arranged chair. Could he have found one any less accommodating? Forced to sit stiffly upright, my feet barely touching the floor, I opened the book and prepared to pretend to read, the edges of the heavy cardboard binding digging into the tops of my legs.

Instead, I was thinking about running my hands over his sleeping form, blowing in his ear, discovering if his hair was as soft as it was shiny. Trust a hair stylist to have the most beautiful hair. Did I mention I could see the muscle definition in his back, the bulge of his shoulders, the vulnerable exposed nape of his neck? I wondered if he'd discarded his shirt to avoid wrinkling it or just for my benefit. I couldn't be sure.

I shut the book, tired of pretending. Lines which came to mind from a supposedly fictional vampire novel I had once read now struck me as so true. _'It amazed me that, once upon a time, I hadn't known, either. I hadn't realized some of the people I knew were Werewolves because I didn't comprehend there was such a thing.' _The protagonist had been a telepath.

If Werewolves were real, then Vampires, Elves, Demons, and other fantasy creatures likely were real, too. And I no longer doubted Eric's explanations. Nor did I doubt he was a Werewolf. But we humans didn't seem to have all the facts straight on the Supernaturals. I knew tomorrow was the beginning of a full moon, and Eric didn't seem too worried about it. In fact, he hadn't even mentioned it.

The bed did look very inviting, in spite of the sleep I'd had today. I reasoned, carefully, that we'd be out late, and if anything went wrong, I'd be better off fully rested. Besides, I'd seen Eric without clothes and vice versa, and I was still a Werewolf-virgin, employing a bit of skewed logic. I just _had_ to be safe with him.

Kicking off my heels, I hesitated, and then pulled down the ruched skirt. I'd leave the leather halter on, for protection, although it was warmer on the top level of the townhouse than downstairs. Hmm, checking, I noticed the leather was beginning to feel a little sweaty under the arms. Confirming that Eric's position hadn't changed since I'd entered his bedroom I made an instantaneous decision and removed the halter. My reasons didn't bear close examination.

I carefully crawled on the bed, and reluctantly turning my back on the draw that was my Werewolf companion, rolled on my side near the edge of the bed. My skin was cooler now, and the slightly warmer air felt soothing. I was lulled into a relaxed position, and soon flattened out on my back. Exposed? Yes, but if he turned over in his sleep, he'd already seen the show last night. I moved an extra pillow in place between us, and closed my eyes.

I really needn't have worried. Eric could not have changed position on that bed without causing a mattress tsunami if he'd tried. When he did move a few minutes later, he didn't bother to pretend he was doing anything but rolling over so he could comfortably face me. I kept my eyes closed. Maybe the big bad Wolf would go away if I couldn't see him.

"I'm glad you decided to join me. That is the most uncomfortable chair in the house." His voice was smooth and low in the dim light of the room.

I'd switched off the light when I climbed into bed. My eyes opened at his confession and adjusted easily to find him settled against the pillow, appreciatively surveying my exposed upper half. No point in trying to cover myself. Or maybe I didn't want to do so.

_________________________________________________________________________

**EPOV**

Her footsteps on the stairs alerted me to her much-anticipated arrival. Not acknowledging her entrance, I froze in place, my woodland predator experience coming in handy yet again. When I felt her relax on the bed, I waited another ten minutes, my eyes on the bedside clock, counting the seconds.

Rolling over, my nose was assaulted by hints of lemon balm with faint echoes of oatmeal and vanilla that were Sookie's natural scent. The enhanced smell of her pure Human blood, a clear bell-like note tingling in my nose, reminded me that tomorrow was the start of the full moon. She'd need to stay at Pam's if Niall's trackers couldn't get this kidnapping scheme resolved before dusk on Sunday. I knew the d'Varg trackers should have found the previous resting place of the rogue vampires by now, given all the information I'd provided earlier today. If we could draw them to Clancy's tonight, my Were brothers acting as bouncers could sniff out the offenders in the crowd of Supes. We'd have this threat all shut down before morning and Sookie's memory would be cleansed. She would be back at Belks on Monday none-the-wiser. So, why didn't that make me any happier?

Horny, I tried to reason it through very carefully, but it was too much effort. The only fact that mattered was that right now might be the only chance I'd have to fully taste her scent bouquet, among other things. Especially if she were to find out about Will Compton being a Vampire. I had no doubt she'd blame me and possibly Pam for not telling her Compton was her Were-assigned Vampire Guardian, missing because he'd been viciously decapitated in a freakish, unexpected revenge plot. When she did learn the details of both our and his deception, the unexpected shock would be very difficult to erase from her unconscious. Human emotions are always more deeply seated in the psyche and more difficult to handle. She might always dislike me but never fully understand the reason for it.

I sadly envisioned her coming into the shop, the result of last week's hastily conceived suggestion implanted by Pam at Niall's insistence, her deeply ingrained distaste nearly overriding Pam's gentle directive to visit us every week for a facial and manicure. It had been a crude plan to keep tabs on her without intruding too much in her Human life. Longer-term, NIall was having the database searched to find a suitable mate for her. He expected to have results and a plan in place before Christmas. I half-hoped the True Human stud would turn out to be a fairy.

But the satisfactory mating of Sookie would be his conciliatory gift to the Tribunal. She and the designated pure Human male would eventually meet at the shop or elsewhere on a pretense from Pam. Human nature would then be allowed to take its course. I might never see her again after that, being just an Investigator, not even a full Guardian. It was my sojourn in Antarctica that had precluded my completing the final portion of the Guardian training program. I stopped short of grinding my teeth, and briefly enjoyed a traitorous thought '_unless I choose to defy my orders from the ASCPPTH.' _

In my opinion, the ASC etcetera organization existed only to satisfy the whims of my Sire, Niall. But disobey it, and I would be disobeying him. I could kiss any future Pack leadership roles goodbye, possibly forever.

And yet, her eyes were opening, staring at me, asking me for something I couldn't name. I could easily see the lovely color that reminded me of the sky during an early morning hunt over the pack ice. Her orbs were deep blue at the edges, with the rest reflecting the same murky surface as the bitterly cold one I'd left behind. I wondered. Would she be as throaty as my Were females became when we fucked? Would her eyes narrow with desire for me, lashes curling long and brow furrowing from the effort of accommodating my hips grinding into hers? It was time to discover the answers to _my _questions. And I had my Sire to thank for the opportunity.

I had been so relieved to be released from my enforced snowfields confinement and allowed to finally resume my human form. Niall's wolf's call inside my head had come just as I was evaluating the consequences of rebelling and returning to the Americas under human disguise. My endurance of the conditions and the loneliness had been a gift to him, further evidence to convince my Sire I could be trusted to perform as ordered, worthy of my Alpha status. _Usually, and when it suited my purpose_, I hedged, truthful with myself if with no one else.

In fact, contrary to Niall's express orders to me, delivered as Sookie had waited outside my salon office yesterday morning for her haircut, I was definitely about to become physical with her. Greedily, my eyes raked over the bounty of her naked form, visibly trembling under my close scrutiny, the lushly curvaceous banquet interrupted only by some sheer bikini material shielding her pussy from my view.

The abundance of her natural charms (no whiff of silicone or salt water), combined with her smell and compelling eyes, were proving to be too much for this Wolf. Rationalizing that if she showered after we fucked, I could remove most of my scent from her body, I began my seduction. Tonight I would not let us become derailed by condoms or inane discussions about full moons, nor allow her to focus on my physical imperative to shift. I wouldn't talk at all except to woo her with sweet words and whisper her name in her hair.

Hmmm, the hair still looked a little stiff from the effects of the new color. I would remember to work in some of the salon's new conditioning treatment later in the shower.

I settled in to secure my reward for all the deprivation Niall had made me endure. I knew she wanted me; her body betrayed her, regardless of whatever she was thinking at the moment. The powerful aroma of arousal from between her legs drifting up and around my scent glands was driving an arrow down my spine, both energizing and straightening everything in its path.

I slowed my advance; in my excitement, I'd have to be extremely careful to not injure the Human. If I damaged her, Niall would know I'd risked a pregnancy to satisfy my own all-too-common compulsion to screw this rare, luscious True Human. I'd be banished a lot further than Antarctica this time; it might be of the permanent variety.

_________________________________________________________________________

**SPOV**

If Eric thought I smelled good, I would have to confess to being a creature ruled more by visual stimuli. My animal brain might be drinking in his pheromones, but my eyes were sending unrelenting _'yes, yes, yes_' signals backto my cerebral cortex.

I had only to make the smallest of gestures to let him know that I was prepared to accept him. Now, fully in the moment, I didn't care if he turned furry or roamed the woods for several nights every month, scaring up packs of deer that he hunted to extinction. I hated deer; they had methodically destroyed Granmere's plantings, year-after-year. If I was a Werewolf, I'd gladly join in the hunt by his side and slaughter them with abandon.

The gesture I made was to turn on my side and roll in closer to him. He'd removed the offending pillow so there was nothing impeding my wanton push into his heated flesh. He felt even warmer than he had been last night or earlier when we'd left _Felicia's_. I had a moment to see surprise wash over his waiting face before it was quickly replaced by a knowing look. His arms enfolded me, pressing my boobs greedily against his chest, but going no further.

Was Wolf-boy testing my resolve? Nothing much beat the marvel of hard, sculpted male pecs pressed tightly against my slightly sore, overly sensitive nipples. Resolve? I had none left. His well-defined chest held just a light covering of hair, precisely the right amount of texture without being a floor mat. I wanted more of him. I moaned for more, the ache beginning just behind my knees, a leg spasm that sizzled and caused my thighs to clench and hold. I was waiting for my kiss, the crush of his lips against mine to launch our twilight dance. But my partner seemed at a loss as to his next move. The bike we were riding appeared to have unexpectedly stalled-out.

Maybe he needed more reassurance as to just how thoroughly my resolve to avoid anything physical with him had crumbled? No problem. My hand slid down between us, skimming over the rough material of his jeans. Hmm, better get those off quickly before they spotted. Definitely not the sort of embellishment any guy hoped to flash while performing on stage.

He didn't seem to have any objections to me taking the lead, in fact releasing his hold on me to shift his hips to give me better access. I wasn't an expert, but the tooth-and-eye fastener was easy to release. I think we were both holding our breaths when my hand slipped inside his shorts and began the scavenger hunt, the results of which would serve to hold any female in thrall to the male being stroked. I wasn't sure what I would find, but I'd promised myself I would not be disappointed. It was my favorite part of getting to know a new man. In this case, my new man and his uncut cock. I'd rarely encountered one, but the sensation was unmistakable as my fingers caressed his tip. With evidence in hand, I was beyond eager to release the hounds. Judging by the uneven breathing coming from my companion, he was as well. I was shocked when I scaled my palm down the length. I could not wrap my hand around its girth. _Question: What's bigger than a Coke can and twice as hard? _The punch line will poke a delicious hole in you.

Much to my eager companion's dismay and alarm, I released him and pulled my hand out of the front of his jeans. Why did I hesitate and then stop? I was sorely missing the romantic part of the evening. We needed to talk if I was going to do more than just drool happily over his impressive offering. We hadn't even kissed. Sometimes it was the best part, depending on the skill level of your partner.

________________________________________________________________________

**EPOV**

I was gripping the bed sheets tightly as her small, warm fingers began kneading the fleshy part of my cock, slipping over the lip to collapse to its unseeing eye, and then telescoping to slowly follow the shape back down and slide underneath. She massaged the foreskin with her flexible fingers, rolling my juice between the pads of her thumb and index fingers.

It was torture and I was the willing submissive Wolf, a new role for me. Careful to hold still, I concentrated on the pleasure, my breathing ragged and pulled from deep within me. She was nothing like the aggressive female Weres I'd always preferred, women who became blocks of arched stone once I'd challenged and then physically overpowered them. They expected me to break the skin on their necks, and then hold them in place with my canines and my hips as I mounted them, getting right to it. I'd been to several human hookers since I'd returned a few months ago, but those had been heartless business transactions, over almost before I'd begun and I didn't bite them; horrible taste. My dimly memorable, scant handful of human bed partners from the seventies, (after I'd matured but before I went wolf and left the country), no longer interested me. They had all either married or disappeared. And no way was I so foolish as to screw my human customers and imperil my favorite business. In some ways, I was starting fresh with this Human.

Except she seemed to be stopping!? Yes, she was withdrawing her hand, just as she'd started to stroke my dick. Maybe she needed more room? Was she too cramped with me crammed into a square area of cloth not much larger than my hand? I could help. I smiled and lifted my hips from the surface of the bed, starting to wiggle out of the confining jeans. Her tapping fingers on my arm halted me, as they were meant to do.

"Eric, we need to talk."

Fuck. The voice of my Siren; had she only spoken _any_ other words, we could both have been happy this night.

Talk. It was the death knell for me, every time.

Women always ended up hating me when I told them what I was really thinking.

I sighed in resignation and stuffed it carefully back in my shorts.

_________________________________________________________________________

**SPOV**

"What now, Sookie?" he'd asked me, a note of pleading apparent in his tone.

Well, he didn't sound _too_ peeved with me. I'd suggested we needed to talk because I wanted to be closer to his mouth, to watch his lips form words, to see his breath spiral out with his thoughts. I wanted to be drawn into slipping my tongue along the top of his upper lip, to trace the sensuous wavy shape with just the tip. I wanted him to experience the tenderness of the explorations with me. Instead, he had seemed to want only skip the preliminaries and move straight into the sex. I needed the prelims.

His upper lip looked smooth, a light beading of sweat the only evidence of his reaction to the melding of our bodies. Eric's skin, always luminous, was firm and clear. He had a small dimpled area beneath his lower lip, and I scraped the edge of my nail into the shallow depression. He'd done a quick shave earlier when he showered, but I could tell he was a solid member of the five o'clock shadow club. Without answering him, I gave into ill-formed plans to caress and cradle him. I wrapped my free arm securely over his shoulder and under his shock of hair, and then wiggled as slowly and carefully as I could, stretching out full length against his long, lean frame. My skin was free of all barriers to his touch; save for the lacy, beribboned bikini bottom Pam had insisted I wear tonight. I pressed into his chest and drove my hips up against his, my legs elongating to engage fully with the front of his thighs, arching my back to push my mound firmly against his groin area. It was the unmistakable embodiment of the beginnings of feminine surrender, but for these few hours tonight I was prepared to be his seducer.

"Yes?" He released the question with a small sigh. I positioned my hand to caress his smooth neck, and tilted my face up to his. Inches from his mouth, I sought his eyes, now moody at being thwarted from something he'd thought was being offered without reserve. I made my demands known in a clear voice.

"Kiss me, Eric, please."

"I don't kiss." The hiss from me had him scrambling to pacify. "I don't usually kiss my kind. But I have kissed Humans, just not recently."

"Shall I kiss you, then?" He looked uncertain, as if I might have been speaking in Sanskrit. "Shall I be the aggressor, and show you the sort of kiss I desire from your lips, Wolf?"

"Eyes open?" he asked.

"If I can make you relax completely and sink into the sensation of our kiss, your eyes may close."

He nodded. _'You can try'_ was written on his face. I continued.

"Do you give over your lips to me for my pleasure, Wolf?" It was not a question.

A gentle movement in the vicinity ofmy own groin signaled that my words were having an effect on him. His brilliant sapphire eyes had darkened into smoked glass now, reflective of his new mood.

He groaned softly. "If you wish it, Sookie."

"Oh, I do wish it, Eric. And so shall you."

I fully intended to ensnare this arrogant Wolf. I would enslave him to my whims and coat the inside of his mouth with the scent of my desire, all while teaching him how to kiss a Human woman. It was woefully obvious now that he didn't have much experience. Easily remedied.

My tongue flicked from between my lips in quick succession into the corners of his mouth. He was startled, and nearly jerked back. Before I was finished with him, I'd be biting those perfect lips, shy little expressionsof his lust. They would be swollen with his blood, and my ministrations, heated… no, virtually _on fire_ for me.

He felt actually quite warm already. Surely he must be feeling somewhat overheated? I thought about turning down the A/C, but didn't want to get up.

A low growl issued from the eager mouth I was concentrating on destroying with just the tip of my tongue while lightly dusting my lips over his, nibbling on his sublime masculine flesh, my teeth nipping first his chin and then his nose. My own personal Eric sensor was pushing greedily against his gleaming canines and gliding over his front teeth. If this was his first time kissing a _True_ Human, I was going to make it memorable, if not earth-shattering.

_______________________________________________________________________

**EPOV**

She wanted to kiss first? I had agreed, but couldn't have guessed how pleasurable it would be for me. Her delicate, insistent tongue was a revelation, as she used just the tip of it to tease me into opening for her. Giving in to her demands allowed me to swallow down more of her, jacking my Wolf senses sky high. Eyes closed, I was enjoying kissing Sookie very much, my hands sliding up and down her lace-covered ass, thumbs teasing the deep crease, rubbing her more firmly against my front. Her exposed belly was deliciously silky and warm, her lush tits calling to me to break off the kissing and suck her petal-shaped buds between my teeth, grazing the tender skin over-and-over with the points of my canines. I would sink my fingers into her empty mouth, crooking them to gather up her juices, and use the moisture to stroke her into completely exposing her labia to me. I would then settle my mouth on her, reveling in her taste as my tongue delved deep inside her, my sensitive nose buried in her intoxicating center. As these ideas swam woozily through my brain, I noticed her skin was becoming cooler to the touch.

Unsettled, I took a quick mental inventory. _Fuck it,_ I raged silently. It was my temperature that was climbing, my skin that had begun feeling overheated, not hers loosing body heat. My canines too were starting to resonate with a different but still familiar ache. It was one day too early for me to be having this reaction. Was it the pull of her untainted blood or what she was doing to me? The kissing was a novelty, but it had stirred in me unexpected emotions that had nothing to do with fucking. I didn't recognize all of them, but I feared what they might mean for me.

Growling in frustration, I knew I didn't want to push away from her form, didn't want to wrench my lips from hers, or yank back my fingers itching to flex the fullness of those shapely tits. I hoped I might somehow still be able to stifle a nearly overwhelming desire to crush her back against the bed and thoroughly explore the sweetly scented warm wet mouth filled with her so-different human teeth.

Yet, I craved so much more. I desperately wanted my cock to taste the shuddering sensations to be had between her legs tonight. I so needed her to hold _me_ possessively in place with her thighs, locking her arms around my neck, not letting go, our tongues entwined and our breathing merged, my scent overlaying hers as I kissed her, kissed Sookie.

_Shit._ Hearing myself, I realized I was a hopeless loser. She had me.

My vision shifted abruptly, becoming crowded with raw, animal images of her sinking those blunt pearly-white instruments of pleasure into my flesh. My blood would pool and then begin to dribble into her open mouth, tracing over her gleaming teeth... With incredible effort, I shook myself hard and managed to gain a brief moment of clarity. I was at most minutes away from shifting to my Wolf form, possibly less. We'd have to stop, right now. I knew myself too well to risk any of her tender self

Regrettably, I was sure it was the unfamiliar, overwhelming wonder of kissing her that had sent me over the edge. But I couldn't ignore that my cock was definitely headed over into Wolf-man territory. Sookie didn't know about my third form yet. I wasn't sure I wanted her to find out.

_______________________________________________________________________

A/N: Can Eric hold it together long enough to sink into the pleasures of being with his first True Human? Will turning down the air conditioning help? You'll have to read Chapter 8, which continues where this one breaks off. You like?

I _gratefully_ acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them.

Note: Rights protected _Dead and Gone_ (2009) Charlaine Harris, p. 101

Thanks for adding me to your favs and alerts. I always enjoy hearing what you think about this fic. Michelle


	9. Ch 8: A Girl's Guide to Werewolves

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

I'm enjoying the alternating POV for Eric and Sookie. So it continues in this chapter and the following one.

Consider this chapter a Girl's Guide to almost sex with a Werewolf. 'Almost?!' you intone, a deadly glint in your eyes. Sorry, Sookie must devote a small amount of time to unraveling the mysterious world into which she's been drop-kicked.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

_I was at most minutes away from shifting to my Wolf form, possibly less. We'd have to stop, right now. I knew myself too well to risk any of her tender self_

_Regrettably, I was sure it was the unfamiliar, overwhelming wonder of kissing her that had sent me over the edge. But I couldn't ignore that my cock was definitely headed over into Wolf-man territory. Sookie didn't know about my third form yet. I wasn't sure I wanted her to find out._

* * *

**SPOV**

"Sookie, baby, gotta cool this off, now."

Trying to convince myself that it must be some rogue Vampire planting a distasteful suggestion in my brain, rather than Wolf-boy saying the unthinkable, I ignored his remark.

"Now. Off. Sorry, performance tonight." He was mumbling, but I could understand him perfectly.

If it was possible to say 'I froze' while melted into the heating blanket set at high that was Eric under the bed sheet, well, that's what I did. Here I was, ready to burn a couple of pleasurable hourswith a Werewolf, no questions asked, and he wants to call it off?! Is this payback time for last night in the hotel room, Wolf-style?

"Joking or not, I'm not stopping." I was going to insist. Why all the earlier drama if the Wolf wasn't certain of his intentions? If his desire barometer pressed into my crotch was any indicator, we had reached 212 degrees Fahrenheit many minutes earlier. I unselfishly prepared to choke off any protests he might make by swallowing his tongue and not letting go.

My actions prompted a short wrestling match. He was half-hearted about it, but definitely stronger. In fact, in spite of loudly-voiced multiple protests from me, he practically threw me back against the pillows finally, growling deep in his throat. It was a noise I couldn't place; definitely didn't sound like the masculine repertoire of any of the men I'd been around in the past.

"Sookie, off this bed, pronto." He sounded very sure about this momentary interruption. Could it be he wanted to try his luck in the shower?

Deluding myself. I knew that. I blushed, remembering that for a brief period before he pitched me off, I had clung insistently to him, shaking my head _'no',_ with my arms locked around his chest and my hands clasped tightly behind him. No way he wasn't aware of what I'd done, either.

"I don't understand you, Eric." My feelings were bruised. Rejection will do that to the average twenty-two year-old.

"Oh Jesus!" He yelled.

I was still processing his exclamation, Human speed, wondering what a Werewolf knew about the Christian savior, when Eric moved at inhuman speed off the bed and into the room's adjacent bath, slamming the door behind him. I'd heard the sound of cloth ripping and wondered if he'd torn the sheets, although it had a deeper, richer tone.

"Eric?" I called, careful not to sound too needy. I was concerned he might be ill; his skin had been so warm.

When he failed to answer, I swallowed my pride and walking carefully to the closed door, tried the handle. Locked? I knocked.

No response. I pressed my ear against the painted, hollow core door. Had I been a twelve-year old boy, I could have put a fist through it without thinking.

And then it happened.

An animal sound. So eerie, so primal, my mammalian brain stopped working, terror being the only emotion to register.

I could hear some clicking noises, followed by what could have been chuffing. Then Eric called to me, so softly I might have missed it if I hadn't now been glued in fear to the spindly door, unsure if the sounds were coming from behind the door or outside the bedroom walls. "Pam. Mobile." It was a request. Oddly guttural, muffled somehow, almost as if he was talking through a mouthful of hair, or teeth...

I didn't hesitate, flying down the stairs to the table where he'd dropped his wallet, keys, and phone when we first entered. I frantically searched the directory of names. No listing under 'P'. What else would he call her? Guardian? Another blank. I tried a different screen, looking for most recent phone calls, and found a number that appeared more often than the others. _'Demon'_ appeared to be a twice-daily phone call. Found it!

She picked up on the first ring. "Problem?" The note of concern was unmistakable in her question.

"It's me, Sookie. Eric seems to be the one having the problem. His skin was overheating, and now he's…" She cut me off with a string of inventive curses that sounded as if she'd had more than a quarter-century of history from which to draw and had stored them up for future use.

"Quickly, where is he?" she breathed.

"Locked in his upstairs bathroom. I can't make him come out."

"By the blood of Aranadar, don't open that door, Sookie. There's a secure room where you can wait for me. Hurry, go to the kitchen and open the pantry door. Now." Her urgency was frightening me. I'd graduated from community college. It was no great leap to guess why she was worried.

I located the pantry door, stepped inside still holding Eric's mobile and found a heavy gauge, shiny steel swing door. I shoved it in place, swung the latch, and catching my breath, told her I was in the room. A light had activated when I entered. I turned around to survey the set-up. Cozy; I had everything I might need for a siege of several days, including food, water, a computer, and an efficiency bathroom. No Eukanuba or newspapers on the floor for Wolf-boy.

"He's shifted to his Wolf form, right?" I really didn't need to ask the Elf for confirmation; I was merely observing the formalities.

"Sookie, I'll be there as soon as I…ah, can. Minutes only. Eric won't hurt me. I doubt he'd hurt you, either, as he's likely just shifted to his Wolf form, not the Other. I'm convinced you are fine if you stay in the room. When I arrive, we'll lock down the house. He'll return to his Human self within the hour. It's too early for him to shift by a full day. What were you two doing?"

I didn't know if she was fishing, or possibly compiling data for a professional report. Pam? Fishing.

"Kissing, that's all."

"Ah, then, it's serious." She hung up.

As the click tingled in my ear, I heard what sounded like snuffling along the floor from the other side of the door. She'd said I was 'safe', okay? No reason to panic. I exhaled slowly and as quietly as possible. Scarcely daring to breathe was no way to spend a Saturday night. I backed away from the steel door and sat down on the chair in front of the computer.

All I could do now was wait. What to do to kill time?

* * *

**EPOV**

I hadn't had my emotions trigger a form shift since I'd first matured and learned to control my second nature. Pam would know something was wrong and what to do. The Demon-Elf had been my Guardian from my earliest years. My Dame and the rest of her Pack had been slaughtered on the Russian Steppes by hunters seeking out marauding wolves in the winter of 1897. I'd been hidden while she and her sisters left our home with the other village males to bring down some deer; we were starving, as were our neighbors in the villages around us. The winter had been bitter and wildlife was scarce. As a prelude to the tragedy, the native wolves had taken to waiting for their food source outside the pens of the villagers' domesticated livestock. In retaliation and fear for their own safety, the village hunters were systematically stripping out the wolves from the area around their cultivated lands, trying to retain their livelihood.

When my Dame Nemia had died, she had made a Wolf call to my Sire to find and save me. Instead, he had sent Pam, who was in his debt for a major favor Niall had done for her Demon Sire in an earlier century. Pam had found me, cold and frightened, hidden beneath the floorboards of my Dame's steep-roofed square log house. She'd had to pry off the ornate scrolled wood shutters, calling my name, and then tear off the floor boards with her claws when she caught my scent. Nemia had shielded her own death from me, so I was unsure about leaving with someone I didn't know. But with the fire in the hearth long dead, I'd had no choice but to let Pam remove me.

Of course, she hadn't been my Pam at the time. She'd formally introduced herself as 'Meliel', which I later learned translated as 'daughter of love', a rather cruel joke settled on her by her Elf mother. But Pam had known the safe words and the secret name of my Sire, a name guarded from every other peasant Were in our village by my True Were mother and her barren sisters. And what choice did I have? I'd been alone under the floorboards for three days. I was seven years old, and it was time to go.

The experience had convinced me that in every dwelling, I would make a secure room for myself. In the event of another catastrophe such as had befallen me as a pup, I'd be ready. Now the precautionary measure would serve to protect Sookie. I never believed this Wolf would hurt her. But a shift to my third form could be catastrophic. I couldn't risk it.

I expected that by telling Sookie to call Pam, my Guardian would remember my reinforced secure room and tell Sookie how to find it. If Sookie would cease being so stubborn and inquisitive and simply follow Pam's orders, she would be safe until I regained my Human form. It would take a few minutes; I'd wait because to shift back to Human too soon would take extra energy I'd need later tonight. I didn't want to be unable to defend my mate when the rogue Vampires showed at _Clancy's._

_My mate? _

As the shock washed over me at the term I'd just voiced for Sookie, I immediately realized the truth in the statement. I wasn't going back to being a lone Wolf again. Yet, I couldn't explain why I'd reacted strongly enough to Sookie to be thinking of bonding with her. Admittedly, she was a very desirable True Human female offering sex. So what? I rejected many similar offers of casual sex from Human females every day; they didn't interest me. Why was _she_ different? I had no ready answer.

Of course, bonding was Wolf-speak for a lifelong commitment. Humans had different words, different ceremonies, and different ideas of how long a bond might endure. It seemed Humans treated bonds as a convenience, not always a permanent commitment of two lives.

I hoped Sookie would not treat me as a casual fuck. For whatever reason it had happened, I now had no choice but to acknowledge my desire to bond with her. I was her Protector, if not a qualified Guardian. I had no doubts that she would eventually accept my offer. First, though, I wanted to gauge the depth of her feelings for me. In the interim, I would tear apart any Vampire that tried to touch her tonight.

I heard Pam at the door and loped in to greet her.

* * *

**SPOV**

If Eric was going to be so secretive about everything, I reasoned, I would have to take extreme action to get answers. His computer was such a temptation. Why should I resist?

Flipping on the Dell machine, I went to the Internet browser to check his History and Favorites lists. I didn't want to go into Word or Excel; no point in risking learning something about his businesses I didn't wish to know. That late night cash deposit had been too weird.

I started with the history of recent Web sites visited, and found the first item was from YouTube. It appeared to be vid of some nineties band named Temple of the Dog. I couldn't watch it, fearful that Eric might be able to hear it in the kitchen area and know what I was doing. The next web site was Tube8. Wolf-boy was wasting no time getting current with contemporary male interests. No need to open it. The third item was the Atlanta Journal-Constitution online site. I was curious what news items interested Eric. The first item was from Friday's paper. It was a front page story about the inexplicable disappearance of average citizen William Compton, a law-abiding Ford dealership owner from Smyrna. I quickly scanned the copy. It appeared they had no leads, but were working every angle, blah, blah, blah. It also appeared his sister had disappeared from her management job at a local department store. The story's writer broadly hinted that she was a person of interest. In no way could Halli ever have had anything to do with her brother's disappearance, I thought.

However, I was very curious why Eric was searching out stories on Will. Perhaps it had to do with my talk with Pam about Will? Well, that made some sense. It was still odd. My boyfriend dumps me and Eric wants to check into it? I didn't recall telling Pam Will's full name, but how else could they have known it?

Of course, I'd forgotten the most important point. Maybe Will hadn't dumped me. The police thought he was MIA. I recalled that Halli was rumored to be on vacation. The new information about Will didn't upset me as much as it might have before last night and today. After all, I'd been ready to obtain revenge by immediately dumping Will if I could renew his interest in me. I knew it was immature and cranky. But wasn't it also the impetus that led to me meeting Pam and Eric?

My head seriously hurt as I tried to reason out the coincidence of going to Eric's shop and him morphing into my Guardian. Was it more than random? Since no explanation worked, I forgot about it and checked the rest of his history list. That was the only entry on the subject of Mr. MIA, aka Former Boyfriend.

Clicking on Eric's Favorites, I was astonished to see that he had amassed a huge list for someone so recently returned from another part of the World. He also seemed to have mastered the computer and Internet without any trouble.

Judging by his interests, Eric had a serious sports hard-on. All types of sports. Every sport I knew and many I didn't recognize. The subject was a good fifty percent of his saved sites. I immediately flashed on my future with Eric as a part-time sports widow. I already liked football and baseball; you couldn't grow up in a small Southern town and ignore one of the few diversions readily available. So, I could live with his addiction. Not that he'd _asked_ me to spend my future with him, I cautiously reminded myself.

His remaining Favorites emphasized he was both a musician and a businessman searching for new marketing schemes, evaluating Internet opportunities and utilizing Craig's List. It also appeared he regularly scanned all sorts of popular culture sites, including 'E', MTV, Perez Hilton, and Just Jared. Catching-up, I guessed. I wondered if he'd be interested in seeing _New Moon_ with me later in the week. I also wasn't surprised to see that he had lots of World of Warcraft lore. It was another interest I shared with him.

Absorbed in downloading the information about my protector for later girlfriend analysis, I barely heard Pam's call outside the door. When I did, it was almost too late. I quickly exited the Internet and hit 'shut down.'

"Sookie, you in there? Open up, please." An irritated Demon didn't sound promising for a swift night in downtown Atlanta. I'd have to be careful.

After we'd both argued about the mechanism for the heavy steel door for several minutes, I gave in and we succeeded in opening it. I met Pam's appraising stare with a blush.

She was dressed for trouble tonight. What sort of trouble, I couldn't guess. I, on the other hand, hadn't taken time to find my clothes in my scramble to head downstairs for Eric's mobile and wasn't dressed at all. Luckily, I'd picked up a loose jacket of Eric's hanging off the bottom post of the stairs, zipping it up as I'd run to the kitchen. It was about all I had on.

"Just kissing?" She didn't bother to hide her smirk.

"Where's Eric? Is he alright?" I wasn't going to ask if he was still a Wolf, nor was I eager to see him in animal form.

"Getting dressed." No more Wolf, then. "I found and moved your shucked clothes from the bedroom to the powder room by the stairs." She smiled sweetly, having already guessed what we'd been doing when Eric started to shift. "So take your time, sweet cheeks. He'll need at least a half hour before he's ready to go. His hair alone is a major operation."

With all the dignity I could muster, I left Pam to follow her suggestion.

What I'd learned from Eric's computer was a lot to process. I wasn't averse to spending the next half hour sorting through it all in private as I dressed. It seemed very significant that he'd been researching the disappearance of my former boyfriend. If I was back in Bon Temps, I'd call Amelia and we'd tease out every possible explanation. It could take hours and a couple of pints of Ben & Jerry's. But my phone was dead, and I hadn't spoken to her in more than a few weeks, anyway. _I needed new friends!_ I wailed, silently.

* * *

**EPOV**

I shifted back to Human form without any significant effort once Pam arrived, calling me to her by her pet name for me, 'Little Wolf'. I'd welcomed her by placing my nose in her outstretched hand. She'd responded by performing a healing spell over me that served to calm and stabilize my excited self.

In less than a minute, I was Human again and headed back upstairs to dress and prep.

Dammit! The mirror reflected the thin mustache and chin scruff that re-emerged every time I shifted. I'd shaved it off once this morning, and cleaned up my beard again this evening after my shower. Screw it. It was staying on for tonight.

My hair was a curly mass of ringlets, its natural form. Would I have time to work in product and blow it out? Product yes, but I didn't want to waste time working on my hair when I could be with Sookie.

My jeans had been destroyed in the shift, the ripping cloth my first clue that the change was happening. I'd been so besotted with the sensations of kissing Sookie that I ignored the swirl of emotions churning my stomach. Since I was never sick, any nausea was a sure sign of an impending shift to Wolf. Shifting to Human was nausea-free. And my Other form? Forget nausea; it was an entirely different set of issues and potentially unpleasant outcomes.

I swiftly chose new clothes, pulled on my leather wristbands, ran a hand through my unruly hair, and checked out my guyliner. Applying some more, I was reassured my eyes would disappear into my face now, lost in the shadows. I could search the audience for threats to my mate, my actions carefully masked from the rogue Vampires we were seeking. Glancing down, I saw that when I'd shifted, I'd also absorbed the green nail polish. No big deal. If everything worked out tonight as planned, I'd still have time for a manicure tomorrow. After grabbing some powder for my face to control the sweating caused by the stage lights, I quickly found and slipped into a pair of loafers. When necessary, I could stand in these shoes for hours while performing, or fighting.

I realized I was rushing, eager to get back downstairs and discover if I'd scared Sookie shitless or if she'd still accept me. I had a whole raft of problems to sort through, but didn't care. At the moment, what was of paramount importance to me was learning my mate's reaction to my unexpected shift into Wolf form.

I was so hosed.

* * *

**SPOV**

"Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Eric was sporting several inches of height Johnny Depp probably wished he had. Seeing him with his trim mustache, chin scruff, long and curly, light-swallowing hair, and mile-wide grin, he looked so familiar I'd blurted out the pirate's name without thinking. I quickly checked his smile to find it still fixed in place. Thank god his canines had retracted to normal. He did not have a frightening mouthful of teeth, a big fear of mine. I knew it was a hold-over from a children's book Granmere had read to me at night before turning out the light, the illustrations more terrifying than charming to a six year-old. I'd never told her about the nightmares.

"Eric, are you okay? You look amazin' for what you've…just done, I guess." I didn't know if he was sensitive about the too-early form shifting. Maybe it was an embarrassment to him? What had caused it? I wanted to ask, but I knew he wouldn't tell me.

He crossed the room swiftly and dropping his face into my hair, I had time to see his guyliner close-up before he whispered in my ear that he was happy I was safe. I moved closer against his chest as he assured me I never had anything to fear from him.

Pam loudly cleared her throat, reminding us she was still in the room. "Little Wolf, my calming spell can only overcome so much provocation. Step away from the True Human."

Well, was his Elf-Demon Guardian implying I had caused the near mishap? Before I had a chance to ask yet another question, she corrected me.

"Chris Cornell, Sookie. Dead ringer. I told him so yesterday."

I had no idea who Cornell might be, but Eric evidently made the connection. He followed Pam's order for distance and bowed deeply in her direction, obviously preening from all the attention. I felt colder as Eric moved away from the two of us to settle on a metal stool propped against the wall. He leaned behind a cabinet I hadn't registered and produced an instrument case. Unbuckling the top, he set the lid back on its hinges. When he reverently lifted out the blazing brass heavy wind instrument, there was no doubt he was a serious musician.

* * *

**EPOV**

Music to charm the savage beast. That had been part of the spell Pam had woven that helped me to relax. I fished out my sax and left the females to chat among themselves. Tonight was my debut at _Clancy's_. It would be my first time back on stage since I'd returned from my decades-long Niall-enforced exile. I had been practicing to regain my finger dexterity and breath control. I felt confident I would not make a fool of myself with Sookie in the audience. I only had four pieces I'd need to prep; I'd leave the stage while the other musicians finished the first set. Then I was free for the remainder of the evening, if I'd had enough, as the second set was more rock-oriented.

Suddenly, I was eager to take the mouthpiece for some impromptu scales.

Both Sookie and Pam stopped abruptly and circled around me when I began in earnest on _Desafinado_. Stan Getz did it best, but it was still one of my favorites in performance. The lyrics to the preferred version began 'Love is like a never-ending melody'. I didn't wish to waste all my juice in warm-up, but I still wanted to watch Sookie's eyes as I played for her. Music was a classic form of wooing your Lover. I certainly didn't intend to buy her any gravel driveways. Nor would I fall prey to the common male misstep of overly practical gifts of functional clothing or checks. Instead, I'd find her heart's desire and give it to her.

* * *

A/N: What would be Sookie's heart's desire? Eric naked, hard, handcuffs locked in place, the cloth gag pulled tight around his head, some of his shiny ebony hair caught in the knot? With a full moon set to appear in an hour or so, she'd strip... No, wait, that couldn't be Sookie having those thoughts?! Although it could be a fantasy she might share with him at some point. Next chapter, maybe.

* * *

Don't forget to fire up your virgin self for the _Poppin' Eric's Cherry contest_ sponsored by S. Meadows and VampLover1 going on this month. What could be more sinfully delicious? Do remember to ladle on the white fudge syrup for that extra kick, of course.

Did I forget to mention this is a contest for virgin 'writers'? Sorry.

* * *

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them.

I'm posting Chapter 9 tomorrow. I'm hoping you are ready for it?


	10. Ch 9: The Big Bad is Coming

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

I don't know if you are still enjoying this fic 'as is' or if it would be best if Sookie just shags Eric, he shifts into Werewolf form and bites her, and she joins him as a Were at the next full moon. Wouldn't that be so dull and predictable, though? I think so.

**WARNING.** Small, thick-skinned, oval-shaped, wrinkle-free fruit ahead. And please don't skip to the end, looking for the citrus! LOL (I've _never_ done any such thing myself.) Explicit!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_Music was a classic form of wooing your Lover. _

_I certainly didn't intend to buy Sookie any gravel driveways. Nor would I fall prey to the common male misstep of overly practical gifts of functional clothing or checks. Instead, I'd find her heart's desire and give it to her._

* * *

**SPOV**

After an all-too-brief period of Eric playing what he said was Brazilian bossa nova tunes for us, he decided it was time we left for the Club in downtown Atlanta. Eager now to see his performance, I stashed my suitcase of clothes behind his recliner and was standing by the door, impatient to be gone, well before the two Supes were ready. I silently derided them for being so pokey when compared to your average True Human. If I was average? Who knew how many 'Pure ones' (I snickered) like myself there were left in today's world. Did it really matter?

When we finally walked outside together, I learned Pam hadn't driven to Eric's and would be riding with us. While I tried to puzzle out how she could have arrived so quickly earlier (did Elves have wings?), Eric insisted I sit in the front with him in the SUV. Now that I was looking more closely at our ride, I realized it was a _Ford_ Explorer. Oh well, Explorers were very common vehicles.

He spent some time obsessively loading in his musical gear and instruments, and then we were headed to _Clancy's for Jazz_. I tried, I truly did, but after twenty minutes of dead air with a Were and an Elf for companions, I just couldn't maintain radio silence.

"Eric, did you know Will Compton?" The question had been gnawing at me.

"Might as well tell her, Eric. She has a right to know." Pam had weighed in.

"What should I tell her, Pam? Which 'parts' are relevant and which will only muddy the waters?" Not unexpectedly, my never-ending quest for information had resurrected EricTheGrump. Questions had a way of doing that to Wolf-boy. I waited. Something _F-U-N_ was coming, I could feel it. Probably _Plankton's_ definition; I would have preferred Spongebob's.

"Sookie, I never met him, but I knew of him." That cleared it right up.

"How?" I couldn't believe Will was that famous for owning a Ford dealership in Smyrna.

"He was a member of the Supernatural community here in Atlanta."

Jumping to the wrong conclusion, I began… "Oh, was he a Were too?" I hesitated. "He had a rough circulatory problem that always left him feeling a little cooler than normal. Quite a bit cooler, actually. Would that be typical for a Were? It seems wrong, somehow."

I saw Eric glance in the rearview mirror at Pam. I twisted around in time to see her shrug her shoulders, abdicating responsibility for whatever he said to me next.

"Sookie, I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Will was a Vampire, almost two hundred years old…." He stopped to see how I would react to this news.

_Will_ was a Vampire? And I didn't know? Never suspected? He could have bitten me and drained me dry? Would anyone have tried to stop him? The lack of any candidates in answer to my last query scared me the most. Likely only one man would have tried to stop him, and I didn't meet him until three days ago, I thought sadly.

Then I recalled what I'd let Will the Vampire do to me last weekend at his place and completely lost it. I started sucking in great gulps of air, in between spewing out all of my questions at once. "Is there more, Eric? Is there more about Will? Do you know where he is? Was he a good Supe or a bad Supe?" I desperately needed more space, and fumbling, found the button on my car door that opened the window. As a blast of superheated summer night air poured into the car, neither Pam nor Eric bothered to hide their disgust at my reaction. Eric, giving me his scariest look to date, huffed as he reversed the window and then locked the controls on his side. Did he think I was a child?

"Sookie, the windows are bullet-proof." Shiz, I really didn't want to know why that was a necessary precaution on a trip into downtown Atlanta on a Saturday night.

The whole window escapade had temporarily diverted me from my shock at Will's deception about his…what? Lifestyle choice? Was Vampirism something you asked for, or was it just the way you woke up one day, no choice possible? It was confusing, to say the least. I tried to sort it out.

"A Vampire? Is William a **Rogue**? Was he sent to capture me? If so, why'd he wait so long to act?"

Eric pulled over and eyed me carefully.

"Sookie, how much do you care for Will?"

I could see why he'd ask the question if the news he had for me about Will was awful. "Some." But logic didn't exactly entitle him to an answer.

He didn't look pleased with my noncommittal response. '_Up yours' _was my less than gracious reaction.

Not meeting my eyes now, he began again. "I have some news about Will. He may not be coming back. Ever." I wondered. Did he have inside information or nothing more than what he'd gleaned from the _Atlanta Journal_ website? I made the obvious leap.

"Ever? But didn't you just tell me he is, or was, a Vampire? They can't die twice, can they?"

I might be ready to accept that Will was a Vampire. Why not, if Eric was a Werewolf and Pam an Elf and Demon mix? But no way would I easily accept that he was finally dead and gone.

While I pondered why that phrase seemed so familiar, Eric took advantage of my distraction to caress my hand, and he tried again. "Be strong, Sookie, if that is the correct sentiment. You must have cared for him deeply?" It was a question. Not without a dig in there somewhere. I grimaced, considering my earlier, semi-skanky actions in his bedroom, clinging to him. I knew I'd be blushing over that memory for years. When telling the truth, I'd read closing one's eyes sometimes helped. I tried it.

"Eric, you deserve the truth. Will and I were dating; it was a short-lived relationship." I smiled wanly. The shocking news of Will's demise was so recent; I might need a whole day, or less, to get over his loss. Although I felt very bad for Halli and hoped she would be able to overcome her painful… I stopped. Did this mean she was a Vampire, too? Could she even remotely be his real sister?

I realized I was losing the thread and Eric wouldn't tell me anything more about it anyway. 'Need to know basis' only; that was me when it came to the World of Supes. I can't say I agreed with Eric's opinion on the subject.

But if I thought I had a future with the Wolf holding my hand, waiting for me to explain further, pretending about the depth of my feelings for Will would be foolish. Plus I'd always been a total failure at being a femme fatale. I opened my eyes and 'fessed up. "He actually meant very little to me."

The return smile from Eric and the obvious relief he felt at my indifference triggered a new reaction I'd not felt before for any other person. It was deeply satisfying and actually caused a tightening in my chest. Similar to how I'd felt about Granmere, but yet different. In that moment, I knew with certainty I could never bear to see him hurt in any way. I vowed to shield him from harm, if I could.

Whether Eric had regained his ability to read my thoughts, or could simply smell and quantify my scent as indicative of my change of heart towards him, something significant had occurred. He drew me to him, carefully touching his lips to my forehead, and speaking softly, told me he would always protect me.

Before Pam could chastise him again, I pulled away, and smoothing two fingers over his brow, thanked him, hoping he could see past what I said to what was going on inside me. I wanted to kiss him, but I'd have to wait until Pam wasn't around. Maybe we could ditch Pam and find a darkened corner at the Club. When we did, I would so be bruising Wolf-boy's lips. He might have to give up his sax for a few weeks. Or possibly, for this True Human's life span. I'd guarantee he'd never regret it.

Eric put the SUV back in gear and we resumed our escape from the 'burbs. It was close to nine, two hours before Eric's band was scheduled to perform. Watching the housing developments fly by the car windows, I felt a weird sense of relief. At least I knew Will's fate, if not all the particulars. Better yet, I now knew I _hadn't_ been dumped twice in a row, first by Sam, then by Will. Will was simply toast.

* * *

**EPOV**

When I learned she no longer cared for Will, I felt free for the first time in decades. I was free to pursue the affection of the mate my Wolf's heart had chosen. I would be going against the direct orders and biological imperative of my Sire, the Tribunal, and my kind, in not finding and mating with another equally rare True Were. Screw them and their Directives.

More rationally, I reasoned if Niall deemed it so critical for True Weres to mate with only other True Weres, why did he have so many children on Human mothers? Why was I one of only a very few of his line born of a True Were Dame? Perhaps he did not believe in the preservation of bloodlines as much as he professed. It was a rare insight into my Sire, a Wolf with whom I'd had very little interaction. Most of it had been of the unpleasant variety; a benefit for him, a personal sacrifice for me.

Whatever. It made no difference in the actions I would take tonight when the rogue Vampires appeared. They had to know we Weres had been tracking them. Clearly, they could only intend to set up a diversion and then snatch Sookie. I felt certain they would try for her tonight. If they did not capture her soon for their illegal breeding schemes Niall had heard about from a Ghoul he'd been torturing, they ran the risk that a Supe would nail her and impregnate her.

If she _was_ impregnated by a Supe, my mate would lose her superstar status in my World. Every Supe who'd read the Manual knew the facts of Human/Supe reproduction.

After her pregnancy by a Supe, the odds were miniscule that any subsequent pregnancies, even with sperm from a True Human male, would result in a True Human like Sookie.

My Lover would be demoted to just another desirable Human female on our vast sexual playground. No more Sookie-napping plots hatched by Rogue Vampires to thwart.

Even better? No Niall breathing down my neck with threats of banishment if I so much as touched her.

In my case, when all I had was a hammer, nailing looked like such a good idea.

But that was all politics. I was good at it, when I chose to be. Right now, my brain appeared to have migrated to between my legs. My dick was calling the shots and was likely to get all three of us killed if I didn't regain my control. I'd pacify him with a quick trip to the men's stall before the jazz performance tonight. Then I'd be free to make plans that would enable me to stay with Sookie. To mate with her if she'd have me. But she would have to agree that our bond would last forever. No way would I accept living alone for centuries, pining for her after she had passed. It wasn't the Wolf way. No Alpha in his right mind would agree to such a sacrifice and mean it.

* * *

**SPOV**

From the exterior,_ Clancy's _appeared to be much like any other club on Piedmont. If I'd expected to see Half Man/Half Beast horror figures entering a shrouded front door, dragging Human females by the hair, I was doomed to disappointment. Or I might have to wait a few hours. Either way.

It was early, but there wasn't even a line outside the door. The exterior was a dull-as-dishwater blue, with a deep purple door. The lighting was very bright, for a bar. I would have thought most of their bar patrons would have preferred to slink in under cover of dark, unnoticed. Eric said it was a security precaution that kept the less desirable Supes from arriving unannounced and causing a disturbance once they gained entrance. I guessed it also kept the cheaters and other miscreants away from the place. The sign was very discreet, a small pink neon script in one corner of the single blacked-out large plate glass window in the front of the building. It led to a vestibule where the suited doorman waited, along with two of the hairiest, meanest-looking bouncers I'd ever seen. I would have crossed the street to avoid them, if Eric and Pam had given me the option. They didn't.

Instead, we passed through the gauntlet and headed for the back of the club, Eric offhandedly acknowledging the bouncers with a wave and smile, calling them 'Bert and Ernie'. Oh, please. Their real names had to be something like Arnold and Sly. Or Dwayne and Vinny.

As we passed the bar, Pam peeled away from us with a pointed warning to Eric to stay relaxed. He nodded, and the two of us continued to the performers' dressing room. It wasn't much more than a closet-sized space behind the stage where the acts could rest while waiting for the beginning of the show. In our case, he only walked me through the cramped room. Seated alone was a beefy older musician, engaged in some wrist exercises as he looked over several pages of sheet music. Eric clasped hands with him, briefly introduced him as Tray, a keyboard artist, and inquired about the arrival of the other band members.

"Any time, Eric baby. Is this the lady-bug we are… ?" His question trailed off as he regarded me soberly. Surely this unknown man would not be pressed into guarding me as well? Did all male Weres always get conscripted into pulling guard duty, no matter their preferences or protests**? **If Eric's situation was typical, becoming a Protector seemed to be the equivalent of an emergency root canal; mostly unpleasant, decidedly dangerous, and unavoidable. Pain of some kind was understood to be a given. So glad I wasn't a Were, subject to who knew how many arcane rules they followed.

Eric had nodded in response to Tray's query but wasn't going to elaborate on the subject in front of this _'lady-bug._' Telling Tray he'd be back, he pulled me up against his hip, and holding me rather than letting my feet touch the floor, headed for the club's office. It was a gesture both awkward and intimate, but none-the-less strangely satisfying. Around Eric, I just didn't want to let go of him. He appeared to be feeling something similar for me.

When he didn't bother to knock at the door, and one handed started patting his pockets, I knew what was coming. Did he know every manager in every restaurant and club in the area? Just how extensive was this Were network in Atlanta? I'd have to request some population stats from Pam. Or I could wait until I knew Eric better, and maybe he'd tell me. Right.

Turned out Eric did have the Manager's door key and we entered, locking it behind us. I doubted it would keep Pam out if she figured out what we were about to do.

I immediately saw this space was considerably more cozy than the office at _Felicia's_ cafe. And why wasn't I surprised to see a deep closet with items I figured belonged to Eric as he began rummaging through the hangers, looking for something? The outsized jeans and shirts certainly qualified as XXL or more. Distracted again, I knew his height and broad shoulders had to be an advantage when clothes shopping; I'd always noticed those extra large shirt sizes on the sale racks at Belks when I was bargain hunting in the men's department. Both Sam and Will had worn a Medium, I reflected, feeling somewhat smug now about my unexpected upgrade in status to purchasing sizing a little rarer on the male front. In fact, I could hardly wait to get back to work at Belks to buy a crimson or navy tailored long-sleeve shirt for Wolf-boy. He interrupted my shopping daydreams with the latest bulletin.

"Well, it's gone. Appears someone or something has borrowed my favorite tee." Accompanied by a discouraged grunt from my Wolf. How could he tell? Must have been at least twenty black t-shirts in that closet alone. Looked like nothing more than an unrelieved sea of black and white from my perspective. Deciding to be helpful, I changed the subject.

"Eric, do you own this place, too? Or do you just work here?" By 'work here', I meant did he collect the cash and deposit it after-hours at empty storefronts masquerading as banks?

Pulling a wry face, Eric snorted. "_Clancy's_ is a d'Varg business, Lov…, Sookie. My Sire owns this operation, among many others. I'm his errand boy, just expected to retrieve and deliver the money from whatever businesses he chooses. Some days I wonder if my continued existence hinges solely on my ability to satisfy his every whim."

"So someone higher up than you stole your t-shirt?" It seemed a simple conclusion. I couldn't follow his other explanation. What was meant by Sire? Was Niall a Lord? "I'm sorry."

"Not important." He gave me an appraising look. It was a look that caused my stomach to clench.

"Sookie, come here. Sit with me."

His eyes fixed on mine, he backed up and dropped into the center of a well-used leather couch. Pulling gently on my arm, he lowered me to his lap. I snuggled down, enjoying the cocoon he made for us. His arms felt natural around me. But we weren't out of the woods, yet.

"Are you safe, Eric? Pam seemed to think I caused your…problem tonight. Did I? I didn't mean to, if I did." It was a possibility both frightening and exciting. Someday it could lead to me being killed. Did I need that much adventure in my life? Impossible to reason it out with him so close.

As if reading my thoughts again, Eric responded. "I'd never hurt you." His face once again buried in my hair, he breathed deeply, sighing happily. "Quite the contrary" he began. However, catching my warning expression, he somehow managed to restrain himself from one again going off on a verbal tangent about my unique, tantalizing scent and fascinating blood. One problem solved, at least for the moment.

Eric's hands were not so easily tamed. He used my proximity to sweep the hair from my neck, gently stroking the skin under my chin, while his other hand was planted firmly in the very small of my back, a little too low to be entirely comradely. I thought I felt his tongue lick the lobe of my ear. I shuddered and he stopped, too late for me to hit my internal 'off' switch. My head was swiveling in his direction, my mouth zeroing in on his face as a vein in my lips pulsed in anticipation, when he shook himself, breaking the spell. He exhaled slowly, watching me as he pulled back out of my reach, rolling his shoulders. He tried to explain.

"Wait for me for four days. Maybe five. In a month, I will have mastered the emotions that emerge when we kiss." I could tell he was sincere, although it sounded crazy. "I promise I'll be able to control the form shift. I've done it before when I first matured. We two won't have to worry about my reaction at the next full moon." His eyes were focused on my lips. "It will require days and days of practice kissing, True Human. You may suffer from some permanent swelling when I'm done, but Angelina will be calling you for your secret." He grinned at his own joke, the clown.

"So, no kissing tonight?" I both regretted and understood the restriction.

"No, dear one, better not. Pam can only bring me back to Human form so many times with the same spell. The magic fades after too many uses, you know?"

I didn't, but I knew I wanted to learn much more. About Eric. About his world. About where I fit in.

"Hugging ok?"

"Please" he breathed. "More."

"Eric?" I asked, softly.

"Yes?" I pretended not to notice his palms had become molded to my butt during this exchange, squeezing and releasing, squeezing and releasing. He had a nice rhythm going. Did I detect a theme?

"Someday, in the not too distant future, I'd like to…" I stopped. Why was I shy now? He knew what I meant. He could smell my reactions to him.

"I know. We will. Soon." He had to see my too-short skirt was bunched up over the tops of my thighs, my legs split, knees cradling his hips as I rocked back on my heels. Would I be nominated for Slut of the Year if I offered to discard the sheer bikini bottom? Upon reflection, leery that it might be too much stimulation for him tonight, I dismissed the idea.

Eric picked up on my reaction right away, inhaling deeply before commenting. "Wow, that was big surge of pheromones from you, Sookie. What were you thinking of doing to me?" His voice had a deep, possessive undertone to it. He wanted me to tell him, in detail.

"Should I tell you my fantasy, Eric? Ready to risk your ability to perform tonight?" I wanted to share, but I knew we had less than two hours until his performance. How many times _had_ Pam used that spell of hers?

"Tell me." Demanding. Sure.

"Yes, Eric." I knew he'd like hearing that phrase. Didn't need to be a femme fatale to deliver it correctly, a little breathless, eyes downcast.

A hitch in his breathing let me know I'd hit the target.

"Certain?" I wasn't worried any longer about the emergence of his Wolf. Something fundamental had shifted in my thinking. I knew now that Eric would never hurt me. Maybe seeing the color of his fur, running my hands down his back, and stroking his muzzle would serve to release any remaining fear and bind him further to me. Fear was so not the emotion I was feeling for the Wolf beneath me, his eyes trained on my face, his expression happy and content at the thought of his forthcoming treat.

"Just don't touch me, and I'll be fine. Anything else is okay." I knew instantly which part of the Wolf I couldn't touch. Again. For at least four nights, maybe five.

After Eric finished making a timely adjustment to ease whatever was pinching said 'part,' his eyes boring into mine as he did so, he was ready to begin. Wolf-boy, with his many issues, felt very dear to me. I laid my cheek against his face and ran my tingling fingertip over his well-trimmed mustache. I crooked my nail into the curve where his firm, beautifully shaped lips met, asking, but not pushing. He complied, opening his mouth and sucking my index finger between his lips, his tongue wet and slightly rough against my skin.

I took several deep breaths. I hooked my other hand over Eric's shoulder, making sure my boobs were making full contact with his chest. He groaned appreciatively, and we were off. No screwing or kissing, but everything else would seem to be allowed. I could work with that.

* * *

**EPOV**

Oh, god, with the warmth of her female flesh pressed so tightly into me, I could feel her nipples through the butter soft leather of her halter top. I'd told her to go ahead with her fantasy, thinking it would alleviate my need for a solitary trip to the men's room. A release would help me calm down; always making me a little sleepy for a short period.

But when her whispery voice started up against my cheek, her finger in my mouth as I sucked contentedly on it, my lap filled with her fragrant bounty, I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold out for a long, detail-filled fantasy. I hoped she'd move quickly to the action sequences.

For now, eyes closed and ready to be transported to Sookie's world, I stretched out my long legs and kicked off my loafers. This was a rare treat and I was prepared to enjoy it.

In truth, only Sookie had ever suggested this to me. My female Were companions had never shown much interest in me beyond satisfying their unoriginal 'Bite him and fuck him' game plan. Not one of them had ever hesitated to walk away afterwards, completely remorseless about leaving me to my own devices once I was drained and limp. Similarly, the Human hookers never wasted any time on fantasies. It was all about the money for them.

Intrigued with the direction tonight was taking, I concentrated on Sookie, making gentle movements beneath her. If I felt a form shift coming, I would have plenty of time to disengage and exit the room. But I didn't feel any nausea. We should be safe. We could do anything together other than kissing and I was positive I wouldn't shift. Telling her to keep her hands off my dick was just an added precaution. I didn't plan on denying myself any of her goodies, though. In fact, if anyone tried to interrupt us during the next hour, I was pitching Were, Vamp, or Ghoul headfirst from the room, and that flexible list included my Demon Guardian.

My mate began with a long lick around the front of my neck, sucking the ruby and obsidian glass beads into her mouth, testing the limits of the malleable metal on which they were strung. The unique metal was the reason the choker didn't break when I shifted. It was my d'Varg totem, the only item I'd been presented by Niall when I reached maturity more than four decades earlier. The chain itself held some magic, and I imagined her tongue getting small buzzes or shocks from the obsidian. It actually contained the bulk of the ward.

It was the rare day when I didn't wear it. Pam was convinced it had saved my life at least once.

Sookie's voice, breaking into my musings, was telling me how she planned to strip me of my clothes and make me submit to her, the beads making her words thick and slurred. It reminded me of my technique of tonguing and slurring notes on my sax. Sookie was playing with me now, and I was her willing instrument.

She slid her free hand underneath my tee-shirt and beneath my arm to begin twisting and tugging on the short hairs there. It was unexpected, the slight pain sending an electric current directly to my nipple.

"Eric, Eric, Eric, Eric, are you mine, Wolf?" My name was a string of notes for the melody she was etching in my skin. I pushed down deeper into the leather cushion, her query insistent and repetitious, keeping time with my pulse. I fought to not respond too forcefully and scare her again, this compellingly sweet and sexy Human female who I had to have in my life.

My cock twitched as her soft voice triggered the beginnings of the familiar aching need. It started slowly, the low-grade itch for release creeping up the inside of my thighs. I sucked harder on her finger, the nail blunt-tipped but sharp. I could slice my tongue on her nail, if I wished. To think of it was to desire it. I imagined sinking a deadly canine into her knuckle, her skin stretching, then slipping to the side as her blood began to pour out, her heart pumping the metallic fluid over my tongue and into my throat.

I did another quick mental inventory of my stomach for any telltale nausea. Still good.

I opened my eyes, needing to see her face. I'd planned on keeping my eyes closed for my promised treat, but not tonight, not with her.

She pulled her finger from my mouth (could she read _my _mind now?) and straightened it. Her actions languorous, she tilted her head back less than an inch from my face, and slowly inserted her dripping extended index finger into her own mouth. Letting me see how much she relished my taste, my choker still hooked over her teeth. An involuntary groan from someone. Oh, yeah, that was me. My hands tightened on her ass, my fingers tingling from anticipation. It was impossible to prevent my own index finger from exploring the firm flesh sheathed in her sheer panties. My fingers slipped between the top of the elastic and her skin, diving down into the soft, damp crease between her cheeks, probing for an opening.

She moved, the action undeniably welcoming as she pushed her ass back against my hand. My fingers slipped lower. The flesh was willing, but the freaking straining ribbons on her panties were impeding my access.

"Sookie" I pleaded. "Remove the damn bikini bottom and just bare your…self…to me**." **I'd hesitated. Would 'pussy' be an offensive term to my mate? I wanted this fantasy to continue, not to irritate her and start a discussion that would lead to an argument.

She shook her head 'no', and wiggled suggestively_. 'If I wanted them off, I'd have to take them off',_ or so I gathered from her response. My Bitch was having fun with me.

Without hesitation, and being much stronger than any female, Human or Were, I instantly pulled her up off her heels while holding her thighs in place outside my hips. I smoothed my hands down and over her generous buttocks and was rewarded with a dry mouthful of skirt as she arched her back for me. Not the moist treat I was going for with that move. Her gasp hadn't fully left her lips before, head lowered, my tongue had self-corrected and begun worming underneath the sheer material of her bikini bottom, my eyes slamming shut as her exquisite flavor assaulted my nose and ghosted down the back of my throat. As I started to delve between her delicate flaring lips with the tip of my tongue, I felt a growl bubble up from my chest.

WTF! A growl was the first sign a form shift was coming.

Struggling against the knowledge that I needed to dial it back, and soon, my canines had failed to read the memo and were operating on 'automatic pilot.' With rapid flicks of my head, long strips of sheer, beribboned fabric that had fought my need to dip my tongue into her center were being torn from the too-tight bikini bottom and dropped into my lap. I'd demanded complete access and now I had it.

My tongue lapping at her pussy, I could feel her begin to arch into my mouth, an unconscious rhythm of offer and retreat that mimicked my own involuntary movements. My breathing ragged with desire, I reluctantly dropped my right hand from caressing her rear, immediately missing the tightening of her butt muscles against my fingers whenever she surged forward into my mouth. I had no options, forced into splitting my attention between satisfying Sookie and tugging halfheartedly on my button-front jeans, nearly whining as I struggled to gain some leverage so I could release myself from the painful position I was stuck in. Eventually, I managed to jerk free of the circulation-destroying material, my Lover admirably never once breaking stride through all my painful struggling with the too-small button holes.

Before grasping my swollen cock for much-needed relief, I quickly shoved my fingers between my lips and her's, greedily gathering our moisture to rub over my tip. She protested the interruption, forcibly removing my hand and wrapping it around my length, her smaller hand gripping me too as she twisted my larger one back and forth over the head. She finally abandoned the effort to fist both her hands in my hair, demanding I lick her harder, faster, deeper, caught up in her own private fantasy. I obeyed, while my palm continued the stroking movement up and over my tip. It felt good, but ultimately was an all too familiar movement, perfected through too damn many decades of solitary daily practice. At least my mouth was occupied in ways that were more enjoyable than my frantic jerking-off had been in the shower earlier this evening. I'd still come so hard I'd wondered if I would be able to walk back down the stairs. If only our first time kissing hadn't caused me to lose control and shift to Wolf. I grimaced in embarrassment at the still raw, recent memory.

I knew females moaned during orgasm sometimes, but my mate was literally humming her pleasure at the feel of my tongue spreading her labia and licking her from top to bottom as I gobbled up her juices. While I gently circled my left index finger softly over her other entrance, my nose remained buried in her hooded skin, her scent more intoxicating than anything I was doing to my own dick. I was determined we'd both be well satisfied tonight before we left this room.

Her hips beginning to sway, she let me know how much she was enjoying my attentions. As I waited for her orgasm, her trembling escalating, I imagined her surprise if I stopped what I was doing. _'Why?'_ she'd plead.

'_I'm playing a tenor solo tonight, darlin'_ I'd intone. _'Must leave some breath for my performance.' _Feeling her thighs beginning to jerk and clench and a strong pulsing deep in her pussy, I couldn't prevent my reaction to her coming from overriding my better judgment. I wanted to settle my lips against hers just once more tonight. I wanted the emotions we'd shared earlier to overwhelm me just one more time. Then I'd be better able to wait a week until the moon began to wane.

So, risking it all, I wrapped both hands over her hips and pulled my face away from her delicious shuddering center. I pushed her back on her heels again; her exposed swollen folds now dangerously close to my dick, as I leaned in to kiss my mate. What should have been an innocent move quickly became a searing melding of our lips, our tongues touching, then entwining, both of us making incoherent sounds of pleasure and fear at what we were doing.

A loud beating on the solid metal door momentarily tore my attention from her. "What?" I growled.

I smelled who it was before he answered, of course. Niall, my Sire who only yesterday had again given me emphatic orders to keep Sookie safe and not to touch her, in fact to make sure my dick strayed nowhere near her, was raging outside the door. There was no masking the scents from our sexual play; I was sure they'd reached his True Were nose as easily as if he was standing beside us, observing me purposely disobeying him.

I watched in fascination as the solid metal door bent inward, the exact shape of a fist appearing before a thunderous boom shook the room. In the following seconds, the sequence of events seemed random, but they weren't. An ear-splitting sound of metal tearing as easily as paper accompanied the sight of a massive paw blooming in the growing opening in the buckled door. I remained motionless, processing the inevitable chain of events as Niall's Wolf shape grappled with the door handle to find the button to release the lock. Without thinking about it, I shucked my jeans, and stiff cock still rigidly upright and already homing in on her soaking entrance, I grasped Sookie's trembling hips and pulled my future mate firmly onto me, groaning loudly at how tightly she gripped me and how well lubricated she felt. By way of explanation, I only had time to whisper in my birth language "TN MIN, Sookie" before I started to pump my hips into hers, my release so close I could feel it surging up my cock already. I hoped I'd come before Niall made it through the door.

Fuck being an Alpha Wolf. We'd move to South America and I'd buy an alpaca ranch with my share of the d'Varg money.

Unfortunately, the rush of events was that deadly combination of pleasure, danger, and excitement, hitting me all at once. My defiance of my Sire was the final piece needed for the emergence of the Other. It started as a throbbing sensation in my ass and spread quickly to my nuts as my skin started to expand and thicken. My third form, the most dangerous one, was making a break for it. Twice in one night? Was I bewitched? No, someone had to have cursed me!

"Meliel" I choked out a scream for my Demon to come to my aid as loudly as I could, my mate still wrapped uncomprehendingly around my cock. The very same cock, preparing to double in size, that was buried in her slick, tight pussy as she moaned my name and licked my neck in ecstasy, oblivious to the coming disaster. Jesus, I had to save her, but I'd lost control over my limbs when the change began.

Niall must have sensed the coming power shift, because in the few moments I had to scan the room for something to use to slow the emergence of my third form, I saw that his paw was gone from the hole he'd torn in the reinforced steel door. Then, in preparation for the shift, my vision began to dim.

But not before I felt the first tendrils of Meliel's powerful stasis spell begin to weave throughout the room. She'd never tried it on me. I hoped it worked. I snorted as the growing pain signaled my imminent transformation. My bones popped, preparing to elongate and my body mass began to expand to fill the new shape. It was just so much more challenging than scrunching my 6'4" frame into the smaller wolf body. I started to lose consciousness, my silent plea for Pam to hurry my last coherent thought before I passed out.

* * *

A/N: I hope Pam's spell works. BTW, lots of revelations are coming in Chapter 10. Were you pleased that I delivered on the promised lemon? Was it good for you?

Eric tells Sookie his phavorite frase: You are Mine! What else would our boy say?

* * *

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them--name, clothe, and feed them.

* * *

VL1 only was given the opportunity to edit about half of the chapter, but I still hold her responsible for the ending. She encouraged me to keep going, and the chapter nearly doubled in length. Never, never encourage a wordy story-teller. You see what can happen!


	11. Ch 10: Rescued by a Demon

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

* * *

Before we begin, time for a little reader stroking. How cool is it that you've added this story to your alerts or favs? Are you feeling our Eric as a hot-blooded Were? Well, grab your socks, ladies, and hold on tight, because you are about to meet Eric's third form. And this isn't the only time you, the reader, will meet him. (Disclaimer: Sorry, Eric the Were cannot be bought, sold, or bartered on this site. Management truly regrets any inconvenience this may have caused you.)

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**Chapter 10**

_Niall must have sensed the coming power shift, because in the few moments I had to scan the room for something to use to slow the emergence of my third form, I saw that his paw was gone from the hole he'd torn in the reinforced steel door. Then, in preparation for the shift, my vision began to dim. _

_But not before I felt the first tendrils of Meliel's powerful stasis spell begin to weave throughout the room. She'd never tried it on me. I hoped it worked. I snorted as the growing pain signaled my imminent transformation. My bones popped, preparing to elongate and my body mass began to expand to fill the new shape. It was just so much more challenging than scrunching my 6'4" frame into the smaller wolf body. I started to lose consciousness, my silent plea for my Demon Guardian Meliel to hurry, my last coherent thought before I passed out._

* * *

**PPOV**

Pam surveyed the now-emptied club, the Elven stasis chant reverberating in her head as she picked her way past the overturned stools and chairs, the harsh lights over the stage area throwing the rest of the abandoned club into shadow by comparison.

"Little Wolf, it's me, Meliel," she called to Eric softly, as she approached the door Niall had damaged in his furious attempt to interrupt what Eric had been doing with the True Human. That girl was such a trouble magnet. She really needed to find time to perform a cleansing for her, free her of whatever geis had been placed on her that led to her on-going drama. For what happened around Sookie could only be the manifestation of an enchantment of evil intent, perhaps with a sexual bent.

When Pam had heard the first sound of Niall's fist punching through the reinforced office door, a boom that shook the walls of the club, she knew immediately what her charge was doing. Poor Eric, he really had so little control. He sometimes acted as if he was still an adolescent instead of a Wolf that had reached his maturity more than forty years ago. Those thirty years spent in Wolf form had seriously impaired his development, she thought sadly.

Reaching the door, Pam had been certain her stasis spell must have worked. However, she watched, fascinated, as a small puff of saturated air escaped the twenty inch wide gap in the center of the metal. '_Almost a cloud_,' she noted, distracted as the thing evaporated in the controlled climate of the Club.

Irritated now that the stasis spell didn't appear to have captured all of Eric's transformative magic, the Demon part of her was tempted to root into the ground, slicing through the concrete flooring, to draw upon more of her line's power to control this near disaster. The Elf part was just eager to tear the door from the hinges and make certain Little Wolf was held in check and hadn't harmed Sookie. She'd caught the strong scent of his arousal when she first entered the hall, but couldn't tell how far things had progressed. But she knew Eric was by nature a defiant Alpha and would have been incensed by Niall's interference with his seduction of the Human. No doubt the defiance had been the key element that triggered the emergence of his third form.

"Eric, I'm going to open the door." Pam remembered seeing the blur that had been Niall as he'd escaped the Club through the front door. The power surge generated by Eric's third form had been felt by all the Supes in the structure, which had led to the mass exodus. But he was her charge, and she felt no fear Eric would ever turn on her, no matter which form he assumed.

Calling upon her Demon nature, her claws emerging, Pam sliced into the reinforced steel door, and effortlessly pulled the fragile metal off its hinges. As she released it over her head to skid down the hallway from which she'd just emerged, she was enveloped in a wall of opaque air that obscured her view of the room. Looking up, she was frightened to see the darker boiling shapes rolling along the ceiling, small flashes of maroon and gold rocketing around the room. Maybe she hadn't been able to stop the transformation in time?

Ignoring her numbing fear, she pushed against the opaque air, and fought to where her senses told her Eric lay, sprawled, unconscious and in need of her help. She was momentarily terrified when a small break in the thick soupy air seemed to show the Human to be speared over his thighs. _Hellburden!_ Niall would never forgive his son if the True Human had been killed. Reaching out with her Elf sense, she was relieved to discover Sookie was only unconscious. Thank Fenrir! She offered up a silent promise to slay a couple of goats soon and roast their entrails on her home altar, the George Foreman 360 grill she kept in her backyard for important religious ceremonies.

The very air still trembled with the force from Eric's partial transformation to Ishkur or Adad; she could never remember the whys and wherefores of the two names and knew now was not the time to puzzle it out. Bending down, Pam knelt and felt carefully over the leather sofa she remembered being in this part of the Club's office. Her hand, no longer a claw, was scraped by a sharp item she recognized as the metal edge of a high heel. She'd found Sookie's leg and gently tugged, realizing the Human was still attached to Eric. She didn't dare try to maintain two spells at once; Sookie was just going to have to hurt for a bit until Pam could stabilize Eric and then heal his female. She yanked, hard, and was rewarded with the release of the True Human, accompanied by a loud slurping, sucking sound, and a deep moan from both parties. She could only be grateful that they were both still unconscious when she unhooked them. She didn't want to think what that other sound meant. At least the Human might not have suffered as much had there been no lubrication.

Placing Sookie as far from Eric as the room with its many stumbling blocks permitted, she smoothed the Human's hair away from her slack face and then turned to help Eric regain control. She paused, uncertain now about the change in her charge. He was alert and sitting upright, eyes wide. Pam watched in horror as he straightened his arms then moved them away from his body, creating a 'T' shape, a classical move designed to pull more power into his form.

"Ishkur! Halt. No Humans have summoned you here." She noted Eric had grown significantly in size, and watched as the sofa began to buckle under the increased weight of the Storm-God shape he was assuming as he pulled in more power.

His voice was an unearthly invocation of the sound of thunder and lightning, elements over which he claimed ownership, but it was weak from lack of use. In the same ancient Sumerian tongue she had used in hailing him, he politely inquired with whom he was speaking?

It was far worse than she thought if Eric's third form didn't recognize her, his Guardian. She tried again, desperate to find the key to stop the coming destruction.

"Ishkur. All is well. The fields are fertile, the grain is tall. Return to your watchful state. You are released." Her voice, normally feminine and carefully modulated for Human ears, had drawn strength from her Demon side.

Ishkur nodded, sleepily, already preparing to return to his dormant state. The room could not have contained his form much longer. Pam noted the walls dripped from the moisture in the air and swayed from the incipient lightning at the ceiling, all representing the sheer fertile nature of this primeval being. Soon the sheetrock would begin to melt, the ceiling shift and fall, and then there would be no containing him or what he represented.

And with no more direction than the Demon's admonition, Ishkur closed his eyes, drawing into his form the manifestations of his power that threatened to destroy the room and break free of its confines. Pam watched in fascination as the space around the God became hazy, the currents in the room drawn to the corner where he sat on the ruined couch, and then a lightning bolt crackled, momentarily blinding her. When she blinked, all that remained was the once again unconscious form of Eric, far smaller even at 6'4" than the form of the God that used his body as vessel.

Ceasing the ongoing stasis spell chant, which hadn't worked very well after all, Pam reached out to the cursed twenty-seventh son and felt his damp forehead. He was warm, but appeared to be otherwise returned to his Human shape.

Speaking softly against his ear, she said, "Eric, we have to teach you how to control these urges. And you must tell me what about this Human is affecting you." He shifted over to his side, turning his ear closer to her. She continued. "But first, we need to hide you before your Sire returns to punish you." For that was the immediate problem, now that the third form had been successfully re-bottled, so-to-speak_. Frick! Was a Demon's work never done?_ Pam wondered as she rapidly reviewed and rejected a half-dozen places she could stash Eric until Niall could be appeased.

Unable to think of a better plan, she moved swiftly to wrap the softly groaning Eric in an oversized tablecloth from the club's supply room, and then hauled him outside and rolled him into the back of his SUV, cursing soundly the amount of musical gear he'd brought with him. Returning at Supe speed to the inside of the Club, she collected Sookie, her purse, and scent-searched the room to confirm that no other items remained that did not belong there. Satisfied, she sprinted to the exterior, dropped Sookie into the passenger seat of the SUV, and with no real plan other than escape, turned the vehicle toward Druid Hills, where some of her Elf relation still maintained safe houses.

* * *

**NPOV**

Not five minutes after Pam had left, the head of the d'Varg Werewolves sheepishly made his way back to _Clancy's_, remorseful for abandoning his True Were son when he might have come to his aid. His only justification for leaving when he realized Ishkur was about to manifest was a weak one. He'd once taken one of the Primeval God's Human female worshippers for a mate, ruining her virgin status and pissing off the God in the process. No child had come of the union, but Niall was on Ishkur's shit list. It had been over a thousand years ago, but the Gods were a jealous bunch. '_Better to not throw it in their faces'_ was a tenet that had served him well over the many centuries of his existence. So, to save his own fur, he had run like a yellow dog with the other Supes. It was the sort of reaction that could get him removed from his defacto position as Leader of the ASCPPTH. He didn't want that to happen. He growled in frustration at his own untenable actions tonight.

Entering via the Club's back door and going directly to the office, he was relieved to see that the Guardian had cleaned the area of traces of his son and the True Human. If the Rogue Vamps had appeared this night in an attempt to snatch the girl, he did not want his son harmed trying to save her. He'd heard earlier in the day from his nephew Vane Kattalakis that the Wolf scientists might have isolated a reproducible super-antibody. If the report was accurate, True Humans no longer mattered so very much. He could save his son from most of the punishment he would be subject to for disobeying ASCPPTH orders, possibly even allowing him to continue to roam freely after serving a shortened sentence of celibacy.

In his mind's eye, he had a flash memory of the first time he had seen the small were-child Nemia had borne for him and how he had stumbled in wonder at the sharp gaze of the infant Eric with the thick dark mane of hair and searing sapphire eyes. He remembered immediately recognizing that Eric was that magic calculus of three sevens plus a fourth and knew this pure-bred son of his would have not just his Wolf form, but a third as well. Yet, he would not become a 'shifter'. Regrettably, Niall was unlikely to ever father another True Were son. There were so few True Were females left in the World these days. Not that it really mattered. Humans were acceptable breeding stock, in his book.

Satisfied that Eric had not been harmed and the Demon Guardian had done her job, he turned off the lights with a snap of his fingers, closed and locked the doors, and left via the same back entrance through which he'd arrived. He supposed Meliel had taken them to Druid Hills, where a few Elves kept dwellings. He'd call some of the Pack and have his son and the two females tracked, just to confirm he knew where they were staying.

He only hoped Lestat did not find out about this latest failure to maintain discipline in his ranks. He was the sort of unprincipled bastard who would make serious hay of the incident.

* * *

**SPOV**

There was a soft humming that I caught just on the edge of awareness. I jerked up, the restraint holding me down as I tried to scream…

Oh, well. I was in the front seat of Eric's Explorer and Pam was driving. _How much more normal could I hope for than this?_ I chided myself.

"Pam, I'm awake. Why are you humming? Where's Eric?" I blushed, recalling that we had been screwing when Eric started screaming something I didn't understand and passed out. I had no flipping clue how I'd ended up on the front seat of the car, mostly naked and covered with some sort of peach-colored cloth.

"It's a good color for you, Sookie."

Did she ever offer up any decent explanations? Did any Supes? Was it genetic?

Acknowledging that my natural bent seemed to be anchored in formulating and asking wild-assed questions, I throttled back and began slowly, carefully, "Pam, is Eric alright?"

"Look over your shoulder, Human" she growled at me.

As I tried to twist around to see into the back of the SUV, I let out a major groan in sync with the pain that shot through my center and up my spine. Tears sprang to my eyes. "Oh, for god's sake, Pam, what happened to me?"

Narrowly missing a mini-van that appeared to be doing twenty in the fast lane, Pam made a left turn that found us doing forty in the parking lot of an Arby's before she braked and queued in the drive-through lane.

"Pam, I'm sorry, but I won't." My tone was firm. No budging on this point. I was sure of it.

"What now, Sookie? It's been a miserable evening. Make it infinitely better and tell me—what is it you won't do?"

At the sound of despair in the Elf's voice, I almost gave in, but I had principles.

"I do not eat fast food. Besides, I'm so sore…" I didn't _really _want to tell her where I was feeling the ache, and something more slippery…"I may not be very hungry." But I could tell I needed some fuel.

Pam looked at me in total surprise, then began to chuckle, finally shaking with repressed mirth after she saw I was acting offended.

"Human, you will eat Arby's or you will go hungry. I had to teach Little Wolf the same lesson. Had you no parental supervision as a small one?" She had slipped into a more formalized speaking voice, I noticed.

"My Gran and parents taught me excellent manners. I was also trained not to pollute my body with fast-food poisons…" I was cut-off by the server requesting our orders through a speaker beneath a colorful sign that offered large, full-color photographs of exactly what I'd be missing.

I hesitated. Hunger wasn't a good choice when one had been injured and needed to heal, carefully rationalizing my coming betrayal of Stackhouse doctrine. I blushed again, thinking quickly first of what must have happened to cause the injury. Then shivered, as I grasped the fact that Pam had to have found me with Eric and known that we had disobeyed her. Christ Almighty, I sleep with a guy, and then his sister, or protectress, or whatever, immediately catches us in the act. Not once, but twice.

Pam was staring at me, waiting for me to decide whether to starve or eat what was available. "Give me a number one." I made the request, shamefaced at my easy capitulation.

"Good choice, Sookie."

At least I was back in her good graces and no longer just '_Human.'_

"Are you going to order for Eric? And will he awaken soon?" I'd tried to mesh the two thoughts into one question, but failed.

"Quiet. We will eat here in the lot and then find our way to a safe house. Are you still in much pain?" Pam was looking at me as if my answer mattered to her.

"I'm more concerned about what happened to Eric." My selfless reply seemed to have a good effect on the Elf.

"I've tried to heal you of the hurt from your mating with Eric, but you will still have some pain. He will require additional time to fully heal, but tomorrow during the full moon, he will be restored, with or without my spells." She had driven forward to claim our food, handing me the bags before she continued speaking.

"Eat, Sookie. Worry not about Eric. All will be well." My thoughts became fuzzy as I focused on the poisonous meal. At least I would have some fuel should I need a burst of energy to make a quick escape, assuming I could walk after the, err, mating.

Feeling companionable and slightly buzzed, I tried for some girlfriend-type sharing with Pam. "I'm disappointed that we didn't get to see Eric perform tonight, s'aren't you?"

She snorted and rotated her head in my direction. "You were lucky to avoid being torn-in-half tonight after Ishkun began to manifest between your legs." Her tone was so no-nonsense that I nearly choked on a french fry.

I was sure it was because my mama had often told me that french fries were the work of the Devil. It was so appropriate that I had been fed demon-food by a real Demon. I couldn't wait to tell Gran and the others the news, I thought, more weary and disoriented than I'd felt in a long time.

I didn't feel like asking Pam for any further information, including wondering if Ish-man and Eric might be one-and-the same fellow. I dropped the remainder of my formerly forbidden fuel into the bag, shoved it at Pam for disposal, and felt the familiar drowsiness overtake me before we left the parking lot.

* * *

Pam was shaking my shoulder, telling me I needed to awaken so she could check my injuries before we arrived. I stretched, and felt that awful tug through my core again, but I allowed her to pass her hand over me and told her exactly where it hurt the worst. Chanting some unintelligible phrases underneath her breath, I felt a small easing and gave her a grateful smile. She chatted about my care and healing for a few, then fell silent. I waited for her to continue, content for once to not ask any questions.

Watching my face for a reaction, she slowly explained her position. "I don't wish for you to sleep any more. We will be at my cousin's soon, and I will want them to meet you. They've never seen a True Human, to my knowledge. They will be very interested." She gave me what I would have characterized as a shy smile.

Guessing I was to be the prize goldfish at the upcoming meet and greet, I nodded my agreement. I would behave and perform as required. She patted my shoulder, climbed back in the Explorer, and we were off. The woods were now dark and deep as the undeveloped Georgia landscape can appear, lots of stands of tall, thin pines and only the occasional yellow bug light from a farmhouse set far back from the road.

I didn't understand much of what I'd seen or experienced tonight. I'd need all day tomorrow to recover if I was going to return to my job at Belks on Monday morning. Pam had assured me the soreness would be gone within twenty-four hours if there were no repeat incidents. No argument from me on that account.

We rode in silence for a few more miles before I turned to her, afraid to ask my question, afraid I already knew the answer.

"Pam, will I remember anything that has happened to me over the last two days?" Something she'd said to me on Friday now made me wonder if the Supes had always planned to wipe my memory of these events. It had been the most incredible few days of my life, and I wanted to remember it, all of it, even the pain.

"Not my decision to make, sweet cheeks. I believe the whole episode may need to be presented to the IST." She looked over at me. "Resolution may require a formal ruling from them."

"IST?"

"International Supernatural Tribunal."

"That's a mouthful."

"A very_ nasty_ mouthful," she clarified.

There was really nothing more to say. I closed my eyes and waited for the meeting with the relatives.

* * *

**EPOV**

I'd regained consciousness, wrapped in a peachy tablecloth from the club and tucked in among the musical gear in the back of my Ford, Pam at the wheel. The dim light from the dashboard hurt my eyes. My stomach lurched painfully as I tried to rise without being castrated by the collapsible microphone pole. _Fuck_, that really hurt, I winced as the pole stabbed me again. I was still unable to speak. Moving also proved to be impossible.

Pam heard me and quickly pulled off, which immediately improved my chances of avoiding another blackout. I swallowed several times, glad I had at least regained that much muscle control. My throat hurt, dry and sore.

I hated that fucker Ishkun. I shook my head once and immediately regretted the action. _'Fucker.'_ I refused to believe that I was also Ishkun, a freaking Storm-God with fertility powers, regardless of how often Pam had told me to accept it. I was a Werewolf. Period.

When Pam yanked up the trunk gate, I opened my eyes again, searching for my mate. Her scent was strong in the enclosed vehicle; where was she? I couldn't hide my disappointment she had not come to the back with Pam to see me.

Pam gave me a disapproving look, guessing who I'd been searching for when I saw just her shape highlighted by the overhead light. "Like you, she's too sore to move much."

_Sore?_ _Why?_ Then I remembered and didn't want to go there, afraid Ishkun had permanently damaged her. Afraid she'd never want anything more to do with me. Afraid I'd never to be able to look her in the eyes after…. Pam broke into my despair.

"Dizzy?" When I closed my eyes in response, she began to work on me, apologizing after a few minutes that we needed to keep moving if I could better tolerate the car motion now. When I made no protest, she slammed the trunk gate. Mercifully, the overhead light went dark after a few minutes. I began drifting, the motion of the car now soothing, and soon fell asleep. There was something I was supposed to tell Pam about a missing t-shirt, but it would just have to wait.

* * *

**SPOV**

Twenty minutes after Pam had tried to ease Eric's pain with what I now casually understood to be a magic spell, we turned-off on a dark gravelly road that cut into a really long stretch of those tall thick stands of pine trees. I'd felt a funny whoosh after we'd driven a few yards and then we were through whatever had been slowing us down. I looked askance at Pam, who simply shrugged, clearly not going to give me any information on what we'd just experienced.

Waiting for us on the porch of what appeared to be an average two-story clapboard farmhouse painted a light color indiscernible in the dark, were several tall shapes, clearly both male and female, but no smaller ones._ No children, then_, I felt rather than thought.

"Meliel, what have you brought us?" A strong female voice spoke in English, perhaps for my benefit.

"My charge and a True Human."

There was an excited buzzing among those assembled. Guess Pam had been telling the truth. I put on my best prized goldfish face, and made to pull my sore self from the front seat, if I even could. A new voice, harsh and unhappy, stopped me.

"Stay where you are, True Human. We need no pollution from your kind in our midst."

_What?_ How could I possibly be the pollutant in this situation? I was a Pure One. Eric had told me so. And for that matter, who knew Elves would sound just like small-minded small-town folk, fearful of outsiders?

Pam spoke up quickly. "Zostariel, the Human is mated to Niall's son. She will not cause harm."

How did Pam know that? And what did it mean to be mated to a Werewolf? Not that I was prepared to complain if that Werewolf was Eric.

In spite of my pain, I realized in that moment that what I wanted more than anything was to be allowed to crawl into a soft bed and hold Eric close tonight before falling asleep again. And that was the extent of my ambitions. I projected this desire to the Werewolf huddled between some instruments and speakers, uncertain if he could read my thoughts or not. If I wasn't allowed to get out, I'd just crawl in the back of the SUV and stay with my Wolf. I heard an answering groan and knew he'd got the gist of it. The Elves had been silent, waiting for Zosy to decide our fate, soft bed or back of the Ford.

"Meliel. Enter, cousin. She is safe. You may bring her and the Wolf inside. Hurry before the Others smell you. The two you brought with you will be very enticing to them." A male voice had spoken up, overriding whatever Zosy had been prepared to say. I noticed he was sporting an odd, guttural accent.

Evidently Zostariel didn't like to be contradicted because her voice rose in protest before the male stopped her. "Fool. I read her. Otherwise I would not allow it. The Human is in love with the Wolf. Our males are safe." A gentle murmur swept over the Elvish crowd. I sighed at the thought of a soft, warm bed, snuggled into Eric, both of us aching from our…

'_Oh shit!'_ What did that Elf just say?

* * *

_A/N: We knew that already, didn't we?_

* * *

_In the next chapter, lots more action and a few long-overdue declarations that lead to some meringue. And did you catch that other trait of the Storm-God? More Ishkur-Eric to come. _

* * *

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them--name, clothe, and feed them.

* * *

**Virgin alert.** Don't forget to submit your entry for the **Poppin' Eric's Cherry** contest that runs through November 30. When the family drama becomes a bit too much over the T-giving holiday, take a break and crank out your fantasy deflowering of our favorite Vampire, Human, Viking, Club-Owner, Sookie-Lover, whatever. Just do it.


	12. Ch 11: Babes in Elfland

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

* * *

I guess this was a long time…coming. My bad. I momentarily lost control and entered the **Cowboy Up** contest. There are many really charming entries for the contest by seriously talented writers. (PM me if you need directions.) If you have time, read a couple for unique takes on our favorite Vampire. We already know Eric is beyond edible in a pair of blue jeans, but the Western-theme writers have taken that basic image to new extremes.

So, you've waited for this chapter. Hmm. You are being set-up for the climax (all senses of this word) so perhaps you'll like this _tickler_. Yea or Nay? Let me know.

* * *

**Chapter 11**

"_Meliel. Enter, cousin. She is safe. You may bring her and the Wolf inside. Hurry before the Others smell you. The two you brought with you will be very enticing to them." A male voice had spoken up, overriding whatever Zosy had been prepared to say. I noticed he was sporting an odd, guttural accent. _

_Evidently Zostariel didn't like to be contradicted because her voice rose in protest before the male stopped her. "Fool. I read her. Otherwise I would not allow it. The Human is in love with the Wolf. Our males are safe." A gentle murmur swept over the Elvish crowd. I sighed at the thought of a soft, warm bed, snuggled into Eric, both of us aching from our… _

'_Oh shit!' What did that Elf just say?_

* * *

**EPOV**

With effort, I focused in on the conversation between my Demon and her Elf relatives. Were they going to deny us admittance to their dwelling?

'_Grrrr-eight.'_

Hadn't I read in some Supe pamphlet that there was a pre-set limit to how much shit could rain down on a magical being within a twenty-four hour period? Maybe I could file a complaint and get some compensation. In my case, there definitely was a screw-up somewhere. First, I early shifted into Wolf, then my body exploded in size to fit the Storm God's calling and I impulsively impaled my mate on my near fertility-God enhanced dick, and now I was so damn weak I questioned if I could tear a Kleenex in half.

_But the biggest screw-up?_

I hung my head in shame. I'd definitely come inside her. Would that suffice to get me banished by my Sire Niall? Oh, yeah, guess I'd forgotten that one in my assessment of the 'raining shit' lineup. _Good thing I remembered,_ I grimaced.

I noticed with some relief that Meliel was pushing back with her extended family, intent on obtaining the safety of the three of us. I gave a mental sigh. Here was a classic example of her pulling my ass out of the fire. Just like she'd been there for me when I'd been stuck in Antarctica, now she was hiding me from the wrath of Niall. Had there ever been a time when my Demon hadn't been there to rescue me when I most needed her? At this rate, I would be so indebted to her I'd eventually have to place myself in perpetual servitude to repay her services. I could imagine my Sire's face when I told him the news… It would almost be worth it to make the offer.

Then I heard it: a casual assessment from the male Elf that the True Human was in love. _With me!_

I was stunned. In my brief life, less than three-quarters of which had been spent in human form, no one had ever declared love for me. I suspected the Demon felt some form of affection for me, but she'd never said so.

I thought back over the events of the evening, or at least what I could remember. My little blond, curvy, sweet-smelling mate had sent me a strong signal of warmth and desire all night. The scent cues were unmistakable for those emotions. However, I did not detect anything from her which approached _love_, as the Elf had just voiced. Could he be wrong? Landrel would be much better at reading a Human's emotions; I'd known him from my time before the decades of my exile and didn't doubt his accuracy. But what did I know of the scent cues of love?

_Ouch!_ I'd accidentally shifted around to look at Sookie in my astonishment and now had a scraped ankle to add to my list of aches. I growled, low in my throat. Life as a pretzel surrounded by sharp objects was becoming tiresome. Time for a change, but I couldn't move without risking being painfully stabbed again.

And how could I confirm Landrel's assessment of Sookie? It would move our hasty coupling from the outrageous and demeaning to the natural if she truly loved me. At least, there was a certain logic I was sure I could sort out, given the chance. For now, all I wanted to do was howl with excitement.

Not that I had time to figure it all out. Reminding myself I was a Protector first, pincushion second, I had to guarantee safe accommodation for the remainder of the night for my True Human. Determining whether she loved me or not would have to wait.

"Meliel—the Others?" My voice, scratchy and weak, still signaled my sense of urgency about removing ourselves from our vulnerable position outside of the Elvish walls. I'd do it, but my muscle control sucked at the moment.

She understood and spoke again to her relatives. "My charge requires assistance leaving the car, cousins. Have you any who would help?"

In answer, the steps creaked; the sound of bodies moving in my direction was welcome. I knew tomorrow I would heal completely after the change, but tonight I was not myself. And my wolf-sense was tingling. The Others were moving nearer.

It was past time to retreat to the safety of the Elves' Heim.

* * *

**SPOV**

I watched in fascination and some fear as several tall Elves moved from the darkened porch to where Eric and I waited. If they were suddenly to turn on us, I doubted Pam and Eric could do much to stop them. I swallowed, throat dry as I once again experienced real fear. My protector was racked-up in the back. Maybe I would be called upon to do more tonight than simply survive the evening? I doubted I would be allowed to slip into a bed and call it a night without a few 'show-and-tell' type demonstrations for the relatives, friendly or not.

"Pam?" I questioned as the first of the elves, a tall male with lemon-yellow hair, eyes hidden in shadow, cheekbones pronounced and very pale, opened my door and leaned in to pull me out. The visor light revealed that his skin was a light gray color. How was he expected to 'pass' in everyday downtown Atlanta? _Pancake makeup? Spray-tanning? _

Perhaps Pam heard the panic in my voice. She spoke from the rear of the vehicle as the tailgate was opened. Her tone wasn't warm, but her words were reassuring. "You and Eric will be brought inside the Heim. You will be safe. Worry not."

Did she say_ 'hive?'_ I prayed that I'd misheard.

Afraid to ask for clarification, I could only desperately wish Eric were well. Over the last three days, I'd grown to trust him as I'd never trusted any man. He was the most unusual person I'd ever met, seemingly beset with a bizarre mixture of creatures, talents, experiences, and vulnerabilities. It was his vulnerability that most endeared him to me. Physical attributes were fleeting, I reminded myself, smiling at the remembrance of what we'd been doing earlier.

Oh, yeah. _What the hell had really happened to him?_ Pam's half-ass explanations made no sense. Wrenched back to the present, I struggled not to scream as I was slowly twisted around by the Elf so I faced him. We had a small moment of truth, with him inhaling my fabulous scent that seemed to bring certain Supes to their knees. _Ahh, another victim_. I was really going to need a spreadsheet soon to keep track. Question: would he be able to control himself? With what appeared to be a great effort, he shook his head and straightened, with me securely locked in his arms. Score one for the Elf.

"I am Grunfrundan." The Elf carrying me introduced himself. I had a moment to think his named sounded familiar, when he whispered I could call him 'Dan.'

Fine. _'Dandy.'_ All I really cared about was Eric. What was happening to him? I looked over the Elf's shoulder, trying not to make eye contact with Dan. A loud moan signaled my Wolf's location. Two Elves were holding him, carrying him as if he were a long, floppy, heavy sack of grain. And truthfully, he didn't seem to have much control of his body. Jeez, did this mean he was really hurt? My heart constricted at the thought. I'd been thinking of Eric as indestructible. Men generally were, in my experience. It was only women who tended to get hurt, feel pain, and cry over skinned knees or broken hearts, that sort of thing.

"I want to stay with Eric." _Wouldn't he need me? _I didn't expect Pam would agree, but nothing ventured, et-cetera.

"Sookie, as we know,_ so_ not a good idea. Third time's a charm, right? How often do you plan to tempt fate and the Gods in one night? At some point, I intend to sleep and may not be in time to rescue you." She stopped, and her tone softened as she added, "Or be there to separate you from one another. Mated pairs have little grasp of the notion of restraint."

I would have stamped my foot in frustration if I'd been able to reach a floor. Instead I said, "Don't you have a spell or something," (an indrawn breath from those still assembled indicated I may I have said something I should not have mentioned), "that can put us both out? No temptation equals 'no problem' and no rescue required?" I ended on a plaintive note. Even incapacitated, Eric and I belonged together. I knew it. I also knew I didn't wish to examine whether the male Elf's earlier assessment of my feelings for Wolf-boy was correct or not. Or Pam's comment about 'mated pairs.'

Pam frowned at me. "Maybe" was her enigmatic reply. Then she turned and headed inside to the lighted rooms. Dan proceeded to follow her, me still in his arms. The two Elves carrying Eric came last.

I had a few moments to wonder about the inside of an Elvish dwelling before I saw it wasn't a 'hive,' but rather a standard issue farmhouse, full of country quilts, carved wooden animals, and plaid-patterned sofas and recliners. Lots of fat, oddly-shaped candles were the only faintly 'magical' aspect to the slightly shabby décor. It was a major letdown. Where was the otherworldly stuff? No wonder Supes mingled with Humans so freely. Other than a few quirks, who could tell the difference?

While these idiotic thoughts were churning, and I let fly with a yawn that I just couldn't catch, our friend Zosy still had a point to make.

"Well, Elf-cousin, since you are capable of casting spells after all, perhaps you should do so over your charge and the Human? Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning. Let's see what you can do, shall we?"

Immediately, I knew I'd really screwed-up and placed Pam in a bad position. However, I'd underestimated Pam's resourcefulness.

"To Humans, Zostariel, everything about us seems magical, does it not? You know I am half-Demon." Was I imagining it, or was Pam gritting her teeth at the admission? She continued.

"I have no more unique healing powers than any of you possess. She is tired and mistaken. I would like to see them settled for the night. Then, we have matters to discuss. The Others are around; can we not all sense them? We must prepare in the event they decide to...visit. Cousins, is this an acceptable plan?" The hushed murmurs indicated their agreement.

Eric and I were carried to a long hallway that seemed to stretch on forever. I blinked, trying to refocus my eyes. What was I seeing? This was an ordinary farmhouse, right?

After walking a considerable distance, our small entourage stopped before a set of doublewide six-panel doors that swung inward to a room softly lit in a wash of mauve. The smell that drifted out when the doors were opened was sweet, but not flowery. More of a piney fragrance. It was not the harsh air-freshener odor sold in Walmart, but instead reminiscent of the scent of deep woods on a summer evening. I inhaled deeply and felt a stillness creep over me, relaxing my muscles, lowering my eyelids, and soothing my aches. "Eric?" I called, sleepily.

When he didn't answer, I hoped it meant he had fallen asleep again. Curiously, the sound of the footsteps the Elves had made in the extended hallway disappeared when we entered the room. Dan's hips swayed as if he was walking over an uneven surface. Against all reason, I kept my eyes closed as I felt Dan lower me to a soft, yielding bed and slip the peach cloth from around me. My skin bare now, the sheets were a gentle caress. They were made of an unfamiliar velvety material with a faintly grass-like smell. I couldn't identify it and didn't care, especially as the bed moved when Eric was deposited next to me. I wondered if they'd lifted his cloth wrapping as well.

In an effort to find out, I hesitantly extended my arm, which felt as if it were made of lead or some other heavy metal. I found Eric's hand and clasped it, a sense of relief washing over me. "Eric," I breathed, the cares of my world dropping away as I felt myself completely relax, the prelude to a restful dreamless sleep. In answer, he squeezed my hand, and then his breathing evened out as well.

Before I crashed, I head Pam's soft chanting inside my head and wondered what secret spell she was weaving around us that she was hiding from her fellow Elves. Was it an abstinence spell or a knock-out spell? _Didn't matter. _I didn't even question why she'd changed her mind and placed us together in the same bed. In our exhausted, weakened state, sex seemed completely out-of-the-question. At least, I certainly felt that way, as I was aching in a most uncomfortable region. And then my thoughts turned random and fuzzy.

We slept, uncaring of all around us, safe in an elven bower, my broken love and I.

* * *

**Amelia, Vampire Assassin**

Biting her nails was a nasty habit, for a Vampire. This one was prone to all sorts of bad behaviors and was proud of each and every one. She _was_ a cold-blooded killer, and she enjoyed looking and acting the part. Long and lithe of body, dark hair worn in a sleek, closely-cropped style, she always wore black when she was working. It was her signature color. She'd gladly go to her Final Death before she'd ever wear anything pink.

Tonight, her task was a relatively simple one. She had only to snatch a True Human from a club in downtown Atlanta, and she'd collect a fee of two hundred thousand for the work. Any newborn could pull it off. And she desperately needed the money for her all-consuming addiction.

Amelia sighed. In her long undead existence, she'd learned that being a Vampire assassin was easy compared to satisfying the cruel mistress known to her victims only as 'Fashion.' Over the last fifty years, her life had become nothing more than a wild-eyed blur of guns, designer clothing, blood, four-inch heels, torture, and Louis Vuitton handbags. She definitely needed a change.

But first, she needed to collect that fee. One True Human, coming right up!

However, when she arrived at the club, alone, convinced she would need no assistance to snare the Human that the Witch had located for her, it had been deserted with few clues as to the reason. She could smell that other Vampires had been on site sometime during the night, but they had departed. _'Filthy blood-suckers!'_ Could they have read, as she had, of the same two hundred 'K' bounty offered on the Supe assassin web site and been equally tempted by the reward?

If so, that meant she would have competition for the bounty. Hmmm, the other Vamps' interest in the snatch made her wonder if there might be more going on than the web site indicated. Maybe she should consider retaining the target Human until she learned more about her worth.

But first, she'd need to find the new location of the girl. For that, she'd incur another fee to the witch to scry for her. The second sum would be as equally outrageous as the first had been_. Sigh._ There went the Christian Louboutin shoes. She'd absolutely have to succeed at finding Sookie Stackhouse now.

She plucked her precious diamond-encrusted cell from her waist pocket to call Felicia for directions to her latest safe house, and confirm with her the amount of the chokingly large second fee. Gulping at the effect of the economic downturn on the increased monies required to implement a simple snatch and grab, her next call was to the twenty-four hour Supe Savings & Loan to check her balance. The results scared her, reminding her that the account had recently been ravaged by her Neiman-Marcus inspired spending binge.

Wishing she had another option, she made arrangements to move the latest exorbitant sum into the witch's account. If only she still had a rich Daddy to contact for additional funds. Unfortunately, her Papa had been one of the first ones she'd bitten and drained when she'd been turned. Cursing once again her thoughtless actions of her first few years as a thirsty Vampire, she moaned at her inability to plan ahead for situations such as this…

* * *

**The Others**

They were dressed in the traditional red robes of the Warrior class, their hair worn short with a long thin braided tail that ended below the waist. They travelled in groups of three, the divine number. Their weapons were ancient and each held a unique name in the old Gaulish tongue, the pronouncement of which sent a mild shock wave through the intended victims. It and their threat were their most significant means of protection; they were not magical creatures by nature.

No, they were Druids, and this was their land; it had been so since before recorded history in the region. The triscale symbol, the lines coming together in a circle on the front of their breastplates, bespoke of the Druid's desire for balance and harmony. And it was within the domain of the Warriors to ensure that their lands were not diminished by the incessant squabbling of their inferiors, the Supes. Plus, they were never averse to a little roasted Demon, or spitted Werewolf, if the opportunity presented itself. They were omnivores, through-and-through. The scattered Elven dwellings were tolerated only because the taste of Elf was so very bitter. Sort of like the Human's eggplant, without the seeds. Human sacrifice being off the menu for roughly two thousand years had forced the Druids to improvise. They were always hungry.

Tonight, they had been sent on a mission to extract information about events that appeared to be developing in the region. It was understood that they would not be formally granted permission to secure their dinner; they would only be allowed to do so if they could mask their actions. Setting the Supe world aflame with revenge plans for the loss of its members was never the goal of the Druids' hunters. They were not ruled by the International Supernatural Tribunal, but they had no wish to invoke its enmity, either. Their numbers had declined since the rise of the Christian Savior, and their sacred Groves were in constant danger from giant logging conglomerates. It was a difficult time to be a Druid, aside from an unexpected but welcome resurgence in their numbers over the decades following the sixties.

The tallest and strongest Druid, Arar, was the leader of this scouting triad. Liger was his second and Divicus made their party complete. Arar was very fond of the Elves. He had been interested in a green-haired, tall and sharp-tongued female, Zostariel, from the first moment of their meeting. The fact that she had steadfastly rejected his advances only whetted his appetite. Tonight presented the perfect excuse to see her again and press his case.

As they approached the Elven Heim, the scents of the True Human, part-Demon, and the Wolf became overpowering, and Divicus made small pleading noises low in his throat in response. Arar silenced him with a calming hand on his arm, the older, taller Druid more tolerant of the inconsistencies of youth than some. His long snow-bright hair shining in the darkness, eyes gleaming, Arar was feeling extremely pleased this new legitimate opportunity to meet with Z-Ariel, as he had come to think of her. Running without efforts for many miles, the trio came at last to the shielded barrier of the Elves' gravel drive. All three had been shocked too many times to not recognize the feel of the electric current, and they halted as one.

Milling about, they waited politely to be allowed to enter. Dawn would break in a few hours, and all Druids preferred to be back in their Groves before it arrived. The meeting with the Elves would have to be quick, Arar thought with some regret.

Plus, they were still hungry.

* * *

**The Rat Bastard**

Watching the blinking screen, the email summary little more than black squiggles against a white background, the much-feared Head of the _International Supernatural Tribunal_ purred with pleasure. Written in Code, the message was clear to anyone with a Tribunal translator. It had taken a long time, but the decades-long investigation appeared to be conclusive.

Although upon reflection, when everyone involved was undead, three decades was the blink of an eye. This sort of project gave everyone something to do and temporarily kept them out of trouble. It had been a useful diversion for the world of the undead denizens.

Even better, the results were both startling and juicy.

Leostet grinned at the screen again, raising a clenched fist above his head in triumph._ Centuries!_ That was how long that arrogant canid Niall had been polluting the human race with his animal seed. And now he was going to crush his nuts. The e-mail contained compelling evidence that Niall's … 'issue' (he choked back an involuntary snarl of envy) had been responsible for bringing final death to one of the Tribunal's best Vampire scientists. Actually, the Vampire had been on his informal wish list titled 'The Dead Deserving of a Final Death' for some time, but that was immaterial.

He stopped and with pleasure, re-read the three pages of text more carefully. The reasoning in Catalides's e-mail seemed indisputable, even if there was no hard evidence. The mystery surrounding the disappearance of Vampire Leonardo had been an irritant to many of the Vamps. The Vamp himself was not well-loved, but to have a solution to his Final Death elude the best Vampire detectives for decades had been insufferable.

If the accusations against Eric Northman were true, he would make certain the Tribunal showed the adolescent Were no mercy. Any amount of torture would be only a mildly satisfying payback for his Wolf Sire's supercilious attitude towards Vampires in general, him in particular.

The pale blond Vampire smiled, displaying a truly frightening mouthful of pointed teeth. He took a moment to admire his aristocratic reflection in the gilt-framed mirror he kept by his bed. He was magnificent. His gray-green eyes burned brightly as he felt his power pour into his center. It _was un sentiment exquis_. In an instant, his fingers, long, tapered and sensuous, were working at the buttons on his trousers, freeing his member as he let out a sigh of satisfaction. If only it was Luis stroking his cock, lifting and freeing his balls from the confining cloth. He pushed his six foot frame down deeper into the mattress, and with eyes closed now, he lost himself in the pretense it was his lost lover. His cool palm began to warm in response to the friction. He soon had forgotten all about Niall and his worthless son; twisting onto his hip, with a loud groan his release came in short, jagged bursts that started deep in his groin and surged in long spurts all over his leather trousers. The trousers were ruined, but it had been worth it.

Using the blood-colored silk sheets to clean off, he tried to focus on the punishment he would seek for the Were patriarch's son, but instead let his thoughts drift, reviewing the many lovers he had claimed over his Vampire life. More satisfying than even the contemplation of the virgins he had ruined and the men he had subjugated was the memory of the pack of eight wolves he had killed those many years ago prior to his own turning. As he began to relive his joy in the fierce battle, the vibration of his mobile distracted him from the stirring memories.

"_Oui_?" Old habits die hard. No point in identifying himself if it was _un adversaire_.

He listened, his teeth gleaming, canines lengthening as the day's news grew only better. When the caller had finished his report, both parties were pleased, if for different reasons.

The French lion spoke first. "Better bring him in for questioning. It appears he has managed to violate the Prime Directive with a True Human. We know how precious those rare bloodlines are to our kind."

With a grunt, his caller agreed and the phone went silent. He knew his seemingly casual suggestion would be taken as orders to be implemented without delay.

The lion now had only to wait. His old opponent, Niall, would be brought to his knees when his son was presented before the Tribunal for his sentencing and determination of punishment. And the punishment would be fatal if his influence could be brought to bear with the other ruling members. After all, he _was _the leader of the Supe Tribunal.

_Un petit sourire_ swept across his face. _C'est bon._

He closed his eyes again and rested his golden head against the embroidered pillows. He would wait for events to unfold.

* * *

**EPOV**

I awoke, nearly suffocating from the evil scent of the Others. How many of my pack over the centuries had been the victims of the Druids' insatiable appetite for my kind? The brief periods of sleep appeared to have been a restorative, as I was able to sit up and move my legs and arms.

Looking around, I saw that my mate slept beside me, unclothed as I was. We were covered in a deep green layer of long, thin, and shiny waxen leaves, woven to create a velvety smooth blanket. We seemed to be resting on a bed of sweet-smelling moss. I concluded we must be deep within the Elves' Heim, then.

Her gentle snore was so enticing I nearly lost it again. Within inches of taking her warm, soft body in my arms, I growled in frustration and wrapped my empty arms around myself. I wasn't fully healed and would need my strength if I was going to escape this place before the Druid hunting party decided to take over and make a late night snack of me. As a True Were, I didn't fear much, but being spitted and devoured by Druids was on the short list of experiences to avoid.

Unfortunately, I would require blood to sufficiently recover my strength before the coming night's full moon. Although the pull of the lunar tides had already begun to work its magic on me, I wasn't at full power. I would be able to carry Sookie, and run, but fighting would be difficult and shifting was a disaster I didn't need to engage in for a third time.

I shook her gently. "Awaken, mate. We must find our way out of this maze to safety."

She grumbled. Just touching her was so exciting, I was fighting the urge to lie down and snuggle up to her when she opened her eyes in wonder.

"Eric?" she asked as her hand reached out to my chest.

"Yes, love?"

Her eyes grown huge at my salutation, she tried to ask the question I'd been thinking of during my lucid moments. "Are we together?"

"Yes. I wish I could say we were safe, but I fear not. "

"Is it the Rogue Vamps again?"

"No, it is something far worse."

"Then, let's go," she said, too bravely for one whom Ishkur had nearly split in half before my Demon had been able to deter him.

"I'm weakened from all this night's form-shifting, dear one. Can you walk?" I held out little hope she could move, much less walk.

To my astonishment, she stood without apparent effort, looking as surprised as I did.

"I thought I was hurt earlier, but my aches seem to be a no-show now?" It was a question from her to which I had no answer.

Both of us silent, we looked at each other in wonder and a little concern.

"Sookie, come closer. I need to check something."

She leaned into me, and with great restraint, I laid my face against her cheek and tried to sort the scent clues. Something had changed, but what?

I told her that I couldn't discern the difference, but there'd been a change in her sometime during the night's events.

"Is it a good change?" she asked, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

"Don't know. Would you consider offering me some nourishment that would help me heal?" I responded. I needed blood and hers was pure. The power in her blood would help me recover more quickly.

"Anything, Eric. Just don't bite me."

"If I can take it without biting, would you give me some of your blood?"

She hesitated, but then agreed to do so if I thought I could refrain from taking too much.

I nodded, hoping I was telling the truth.

She held her wrist out to me, and using my index fingernail, I made a small cut over her vein.

The first slurp of her blood hit me like a sledgehammer. I was reeling from the pleasure and the surge of power a True Human's blood conveyed, when a sharp aftertaste assaulted my senses.

"But, that's impossible!" I sputtered.

"What's impossible, Eric?" my mate asked, innocence shining from her lovely sky-blue orbs.

* * *

A/N: I'm evil. I'm wicked. I'm having so much fun. Oh, yeah.

Don't hate me too much, please? It is all coming together.

* * *

And now, some more recommendations. Have you read _Ancient Writings_ by Corbal? What are you waiting for? The Summer Solstice? I don't care from which hemisphere you hail, get on it.

How about _Grasping at the Impossible_ by Sunkisz? Need a vacay break but SVM FF addiction gluing you to the chair in front of your computer screen? This story takes you to South America. No passport required. Significant Other will understand.

* * *

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them. I'd prefer to lay the blame elsewhere, but I'll be all adult about it. Seriously, she is a dear, and a great writer. Check out her stories for a real treat.

* * *

_Finally (!) if you enjoyed this single cameo by the French lion and he is not a familiar character, I envy you. Send me a PM and we can discuss his pedigree._

Note: Heim = Home


	13. Ch 12: Magic or Reality Check?

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

* * *

Readers: Yes, I have enjoyed the torture sessions, much as any decent Vampire would who has embraced the dark side, but _repentance_ has its place even in the soul-less among us. I don't intend to practice it; I just pay lip service to the idea.

This extra-long chapter does come with its own built-in lemon.

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them. Seriously, she is a dear, and a great writer. Check out her stories for a real treat.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**EPOV**

_She held her wrist out to me, and using my index fingernail, I made a small cut over her vein._

_The first slurp of her blood hit me like a sledgehammer. I was reeling from the pleasure and the surge of power a True Human's blood conveyed when a sharp aftertaste assaulted my senses._

"_But, that's impossible!" I sputtered._

"_What's impossible, Eric?" my mate asked, innocence shining from her lovely sky-blue orbs._

* * *

"Your blood is so pure." I'm always truthful, even if I don't answer her question.

She smiles in acknowledgment, her fingers weaving through my hair, grounding me as I adjust to the head rush of her blood on my tongue.

She must sense my anxiety because she asks, "What is it, Eric?"

"Nothing. It is nothing."

"Please...what did you smell or taste? I wish you would just trust me and spill…" Her voice trails off, her expression showing the beginnings of hurt.

Since even a pup could see where this conversation with my mate is headed, I try to answer her.

"Truth? We aren't safe here." It is _a_ truth, if not the most important one.

She nods and takes my hand, her absolute faith in my ability to protect her shining in her eyes. So far, I haven't done such a great job, but I won't dwell on past mistakes.

"Sookie, we must go now. Follow me, step only where I step. Agree that you will never let go of my hand." I force myself to tell her of my intentions when my natural tendency is to withhold information. The sort of stuff I know could get her killed, at best, but in my world, there are far worse outcomes than death. Still, I'm learning to 'share,' since I now have a mate who expects it.

She blinks at me as I bind up her small wrist wound with a large leaf I rip from a nearby plant, but she listens quietly as I continue, her expression serious.

"I'm searching for the scent of the farmland, the smell of electricity, even the sting of gasoline odors from my Explorer. Don't distract me." I hesitate. The Prime Directive has been so deeply ingrained in me that I'm having trouble speaking, but I keep on.

"Dearest, we appear to be surrounded by forest, but all we see around us is magical. Not all magic is sweet and light, and it is oft times much less than benign. We must avoid awakening the magic of the Elves' Heim this night. Do you understand?" I ask her gently, hoping she catches my meaning.

"No, truthfully I don't, but I trust _you,_ and I won't let go."

"Then let us move. Tread quietly. Stay behind me."

Eyes wide, she closes her mouth, and gesturing with her hand, she indicates her readiness to follow me. Stubborn woman that she is, I know she will only withhold her questions until later; I am certain she will not forget them. If we survive the next several hours, I know her well enough to anticipate another grilling.

Lifting my face and searching for the direction of scent flow, I first find a trail that leads back to the entrance to this magical wood. Taking it would only expose my mate to more danger. I know my Demon is in that direction, but I can neither help her nor call upon her for help without alerting the Others. Meliel has shown me countless times that she can protect herself: I must focus on Sookie's safety instead.

Searching, I find another scent trail, very faint, that might be the one I seek. It has a more acrid flavor. I open my mouth for a taste. Yes, it seems promising. Concentrating, wasting time as I sift through hundreds of cues, I can barely detect the man-made odors of paste, and paper, and steel; all are materials commonly used in wall construction. I accept the risk that it may not be an exterior wall. We must move before we are without choices for our escape.

I gather Sookie in my arms and give her cheek a gentle kiss, whispering my intention to find the outside wall. I catch a glimpse of my dark hair trailing over her pale, dewy shoulder, as I smell the intoxicating scent of her Human body crushed against my chest. I almost lose it again, rubbing my chin and nose over the top of her hair.

I look into her eyes, allowing what I am feeling for her to come through, and she blushes.

"Don't let go," I remind her, and she nods once more as I lock my hand over her smaller one.

There is no path for us, just more trees with acres of mossy ground. The woods should be deep, dark and impenetrable, but unlike a real forest, magic is at play here; lighting is plentiful when we need it, and the woods are empty of other life. I've been checking since I awoke, but have been unable to catch the scent of any of my usual prey in the immediate area.

Determined to find a way out that does not include visiting with any more of my Demon's relatives, we set off. I turn us away from the entrance to our bit of woods, away from the direction I anticipate an attack if the Druids come for me. I know Meliel will not give me up easily, but she is only one among many and might be kept too busy by them to have time to warn me.

* * *

I had hoped to escape the Woodlands within the Heim without incident. But in line with recent events when it came to my Sookie, we once again found ourselves up against it.

The first hint of an outside threat was the vibration felt beneath our bare feet. It was very faint, and I felt it before Sookie did. It quickly grew in intensity, and I knew it meant that Meliel had been threatened and sought protection in her Demon nature. It had to be a very serious threat for her to reveal her abilities in front of her Elven relatives.

I paused, and finally caught a whiff of what I had been seeking: construction materials. Although the smell had been masked, I judged the source to be a few yards in front of me. But what should have been a wall instead appeared as a faintly shimmering vista of rolling hills, sprinkled with stands of evergreens. At our feet was a large patch of columbine, poppies, peonies, and bluebells, popping up in the sea of moss and white anemone that stretched as far as I could see. I had to close my eyes, step forward with arms outstretched and searching with my hands, locate the barrier I knew to be in front of me. When I felt a smooth surface that could never occur in nature, I was jubilant and let out a laugh of triumph.

That one moment of indiscretion proved to be my undoing.

The vines, previously unnoticed by either of us, began to slide down from the top of the wall I had found. I felt the first one roughly drop on my shoulder, not unlike a rope uncoiling when shaken from a great height. Eyes narrowed in frustration, I knew better than to object. I watched as it tightened around my arm. Sookie still held my other hand, trusting in me to handle this situation. If the second one had not twisted low around my bare waist and knotted behind me, I might have felt her faith was justified. Instead, I recognized that I was truly trussed up and would not be able to escape the vines without a serious fight. I took a deep breath and tried to assess our situation.

The wall had appeared when I recognized it for what it was; the stems of the thick, twisted vines now showed stark green against its matte surface. In fact, as I looked at the area more carefully, I could see that the materials had begun to decay, the edges where the sheets met yellowed and fraying. I realized I could kick or punch out an opening for us; no need to find a door if I could remove the grip of the vine from my upper arm. At least the thing had not chosen to coil around my neck. Instead, it had locked itself around a vein that ran through my arm. The vine knotted low around my hips was more problematic. It was very distracting and too close to certain soft areas to be entirely comfortable.

I motioned to Sookie to remain quiet with a careful movement of my finger to my lips. She slowly blinked in agreement, likely too terrified to move.

Would my Wolf-form save us? I could easily shift; I could feel the pull to do so swimming closer to the surface, ready to break the shell of my usual effortless control. Threatened, the emergence of the Wolf was my first response.

Alternatively, I could invoke the power of the Wolf and use my enhanced jaw strength and canines to gnaw at the vine until it released me. Elven magic would be no match for a True Were. I resolved to begin with some teeth action; I'd save shifting to Wolf for later.

As if reading my thoughts, the vines tightened, and a third one dropped from overhead and moved along the wall in my direction. I decided to attempt to reason with my captors. There were not many good choices when it came to dealing with a large, mobile plant. Some dialogue was surely worth a try. I cleared my throat.

"Allow us to pass. We seek an exit from this Heim, and the other way out is not safe."

Was that a hissing sound? I looked at Sookie to see an expression of disbelief on her lovely face at the vines' response. Their response made sense to me, but I'd forgotten it was her first time in an Elven enclave. She couldn't be expected to know that much of the vegetation was truly sentient in a way Human-bred plants could never achieve. The reminder of her vulnerability to all things Supes strengthened my determination to get us both away from the vines and the larger personal threat, the Druids.

"Let us pass." I spoke more forcefully this time. The vine on my arm moved slightly, releasing me just a little.

Not unexpectedly, the plant's reply formed as a question only I could hear.

"_Why?"_

Great, I get a plant that wants clarification. I immediately suspected the vine was of the feminine persuasion. Since I had no time to draft a bullet point summary, I said what I truly felt.

"My mate is in danger. I must keep her safe. We need out of this room."

Again, I was the only one hearing the Vine's impertinent question. _"Payment?"_

_If I only had my machete, _I thought, thoroughly irritated now_. _Not unexpectedly, the great interlocutor of the plant world was invoking magical rules; nothing is ever given freely by Supernatural beings. I would have to suggest something quickly, or we might not make it out of the Heim.

"Whatever we have, but we are without clothing, possessions, or jewels. What would you take from us?" I still had my Wolf totem around my neck, but it felt like a piece of my skin, not just a cord and a hunk of magic-infused, man-made metal. I couldn't imagine what the plant would find valuable or worthy of taking from us to allow us passage.

"_Prove,"_ came the thoroughly unoriginal vegetative reply.

"What?" I was beyond frustrated with this exchange. What was I to prove? And why was this mere Vine acting so damn bossy?

"_Mate_."

Was that a verb, or a noun, or a question? We were running out of time, the vibration growing stronger now. At any moment, I expected the doors I could no longer see to fly open, and one or more of the Druids to come looking for me. I spoke without thinking. Never ask a question of a Supe to which you might not like the answer.

"How?" I asked as calmly as I could. Inside, I was cursing the bad luck that had prevented me from getting into those Supe Protector classes on negotiation skills; right now, I really could have used the help. Werewolves were not known for our logical, cold-blooded reactions to threats or other stimuli. Action, that was the usual Werewolf gameplan.

The Vine answered with what I could have sworn sounded like a smirk. _"Kiss,"_ she said.

"_Kiss?"_ That was _all_ I had to do? I promised the Gods I'd have Pam make a sacrifice on her backyard grill if a nasty fungus could be visited on the Vine and her sisters in the near future; it was _kissing_ that had caused such a fuck-all lot of problems for me over the last 24 hours.

Choking down my inclination to just start chewing on everything in sight, except Sookie, I decided I had dodged a bullet. At least the Vine had not said 'fuck'; now that would have been a disaster of unfathomable proportion. How often could the Storm God manifest in a single night? I'd never tested the limits and didn't want to try right now.

One small point in my favor was that the romantic nature of the proof requested by the Vine confirmed my earlier assessment of its sex. All knowledge was power, even if I wasn't sure exactly how I'd use this piece. But Ms. Bossy Vine couldn't have known that kissing this Human was nearly as dangerous for my fragile control as the lustier version of proof she might have required. Maybe I could work that to my advantage, if I needed it.

_Fuck all!_ I was suddenly fed up with analysis that led nowhere and was ready to risk my control on some kissing. In the pale light of the Heim's woods, my lovely unclothed mate was so luscious; I had only narrowly earlier overcome the urge to pull her to me and drop us to the ground for some serious screwing. And I knew enough about women to know she would not have protested.

Unfortunately, I wasn't sure if she was interested in me, my Wolf, or just reacting to external stimuli. I knew for a fact that no female in her right mind would be attracted to the Storm God Ishkur, so at least he was off the table. But that wasn't really an answer. If she wouldn't accept me, Eric, for her mate, then there were other pleasures to be had with her.

So while I wasn't sure how she was feeling about me, I'd have to wait for answers; I had a very demanding Vine to satisfy. That twisted loop over the vein in my arm was probably the Plant kingdom's version of a lie-detector test. Odd that I'd never run across one before tonight. What luck to stumble across it just as I'm trying to escape being roasted and eaten by Druids.

A tug by the lower looped Vine reminded me of my duty. Sighing, I launched my campaign.

"Love, the Vine is suggesting we must kiss before it will release me?"

Her silent assent to my query was refreshing and unexpected; me questioning and her silent was an interesting role reversal that boded well for our future. She stepped closer to me, not touching, and inclining her face, eyelids fluttering, parted her lips. I wound my Vine-encumbered arm around her warm waist and felt another, much lower, sexual ache for her that the damn Vine probably felt, too. _By Fenrir's ears_, I groaned in despair. I fought a strong urge to bury myself in her fragrant flesh and devour her mouth as she wrapped her legs around me, both of us abandoning caution and reason to the demands of our desire. Instead I settled for palming one of her warm generous breasts, my index finger gently circling the pink bud as it peaked for me.

I'd merely grazed her lips when there was a loud crashing sound. The Vine immediately released me, and she and her inquisitive sisters coiled back up into the ceiling area and out of my line of sight. I saw the crack form in the wall surface before the second loud crash allowed a light gray hand and most of an arm to punch through. The appendage belonged to an Elf. _But was he friend or foe?_ Over-stimulated, I wasn't able to discern his intent from the smells before Sookie recognized him and said with awe, "It's Dan."

Now that the wall had been breached, the Elf used a crowbar to remove large sections; with my help, we soon had an opening sufficiently large for the two of us to crawl through to freedom. Sookie's near death-grip on my hand had shifted to my waist during the demo; she now recaptured my fingers and carefully twined hers in mine. I smiled at the touch and all it implied. Then she and the Elf began excitedly exchanging details about the 'rescue.' _What?_ Wasn't I the one who had found the wall and negotiated with the Vines to secure our safe passage? Didn't she understand that I could have been maimed?

"Dan!" Her pleasure was way too sincere for my tastes. "Thank you again for saving us."

The smarmy Elf prick was spreading it on thick now. "Meliel's mother is favorite sister to mine. Our families have a long history. I wanted to help, Sookie."

His smile was shy as he bobbed his head of lemon-yellow hair. Still not meeting my eyes, he looked at the ground outside the faded clapboard walls of the Elves heavily warded standard-issue farmhouse. _'What good were magical wards when the Elves themselves invited the bad guys inside?_' I wanted to ask this obvious question of Dan, or shove it down his throat, I wasn't picky about my methods, but the Elf's attention was still focused on Sookie. Grinning, he now pointed out the rough clothing and boots he had brought for us. All good, but I couldn't watch him watching my mate as she dressed without wanting to rip his head off. With effort, I somehow repressed the decapitation urge by reminding myself we needed Dan's assistance, if only for the immediate future.

After we had donned the shorts, tees, and footwear, he explained he was unable to find the keys to my vehicle and wouldn't risk the noise it would make. He had a truck parked further down the driveway outside the magical barrier. He offered it to us for our escape. I was glad then that I had controlled my small spurt of anger. Dan's assistance was proving useful after all.

"How fares my Demon Meliel?" I didn't have the luxury of rescuing her at present, but I would seek news before leaving without her.

The Elf gave me a funny look, but said, "Follow me, and I'll explain. Hurry, please." The sudden need for urgency was thick in his voice; I didn't waste time asking what had changed. Instead, I picked up my mate and followed the Elf, both of us running silently through the fields surrounding the farmhouse. He huffed out the news that my Protector had called Demon, as I'd suspected. She was arguing with the Druids who were trying to gain access to the area we'd just left. The vibrations I'd felt had been her rooting into the earth beneath the farmhouse's floorboards. She drew her power from the demon magic found far below the surface of the natural world. The earth's skin looked solid, but it was actually a door for those who knew how to open it, and she was one who did.

Dan's truck was shiny, new, and equipped as only a young male would choose, with gold-tinged pink and blue flames licking up the sides and sliding towards the rubber-coated rear bed, oversized fog lights, outsize cattle guard, and enormous tires with shiny rims. It was an attention-getter, so we'd have to abandon it quickly. Sookie muttered her thanks, using her free hand to cup his cheek and stroke through his hair. I had to look away or risk revealing my irritation at her unwarranted familiarity with the young besotted male. Finally, we were rid of him and inside the cab with the engine started. I could smell him all over her; I'd have to get her out of his borrowed clothes as quickly as possible. _Huh._ Maybe I would come back and visit Dan later, if I survived the next few days.

Air conditioning blasting from the vents, I began to relax into the truck's comfortable seat. We were headed back into Atlanta, the City whose surrender had signaled the end of the Human's Civil War twenty-five years before I was born. I could only hope my decision to seek safety with the only Supe truly capable of guaranteeing it to me wouldn't be interpreted by him as _my_ surrender.

I'd defied him tonight, and he knew it. It was within his rights to punish me. But to keep my mate safe, I was going to risk his wrath. Also, I was shy of options; I didn't trust any of the d'Varg's so-called safe houses or businesses from detection by the Rogue Vampires or any others who might use magic to find her. And I knew my own astounding news would be likely only to anger him further. I held no illusions he'd view it as a good thing. Still, something pushed me to find out which way he would jump.

I was going home, although it had never been my home, and I had never been truly welcomed. I would meet with my Sire NIall and ask for his pardon and protection. I'd try to be humble about it. Maybe.

It didn't help that the truck's radio station was tuned to a station playing Nineties alternative rock and local favorites R.E.M's 'It's the End of the World' lyrics began _'That's great. It starts with an earthquake, birds and snakes… Eye of a hurricane…'_ I could definitely feel _'the furies breathing down my neck._' And I _so_ didn't feel fine.

* * *

**Niall POV**

The distinguished Were was slumped in his leather recliner, his relaxed position belying the alacrity of his thoughts. His house was his most secure bunker, camouflaged as a well-preserved antebellum mansion set in the exclusive northern Atlanta suburb of Buckhead.

The house was surrounded by five acres of woods he made available to favored members of the local Pack during full moons, his property fully protected by a wall ten feet high by fourteen inches thick. His centuries-reinforced upright military bearing was not evident tonight as he sat slumped in thought, his long silvered mane tousled and loosened from its binding; even his clothes were uncharacteristically rumpled and sporting small tears in the knees and elbows. He was seriously concerned about the safety of his twenty-seventh son.

At present he was reviewing various options while awaiting word from the Were trackers on which Elven Heim the Demon had sped to after the near disaster he'd precipitated at _Clancy's_. He still couldn't credit his own misbegotten role in the night's events. He knew his over-reaction to his son's mating scent had contributed to the manifestation of Ishkur in Eric's form. He also knew that the transformation into the Sumerian God of Storms had hurt. It simply could not be otherwise. The shift would have temporarily weakened his son when he would most need his Supe strength against the Rogue Vamps. Was he unconsciously trying to get Eric killed? The thought worried him.

But what worried him more was the e-mail he had received indicating an open pick-up order was out-on-the street for Eric's blatant violation of the Supe's Prime Directive. The punishment meted out for such a crime, if it could be proven, was never less than severe. On occasion it had even included torture, maiming, and incarceration. None of these was acceptable treatment of the progeny of the leader of ASCPPTH. Not by a long shot.

Of even more concern was the definite possibility that any questioning might turn-up the oddity of Eric's departure from the continent around the same time as the mysterious disappearance of the Vamp scientist Leonardo. Niall wasn't sure if the Vamps on the Tribunal would make the connection, but he couldn't risk it. There was one Vamp in particular who was sufficiently skeptical of coincidences to wonder at the timing. And said Vamp wouldn't hesitate to draw the connection from Eric to Niall. Leostat, aka the Rat Bastard, had been looking for a chink in Niall's armor for longer than he could remember.

And, as the head of the Tribunal, the bastard was not limited to the charge at hand in seeking information. He was well-known for his painful and far-ranging questioning of accused Supes about anything that interested him. He'd gained a lot of useful information and would never walk away from this opportunity to screw Niall.

His best plan for saving Eric, having no doubt that he would have to deliver his son In order to save him, was to create a diversion to divide the IST's attention.

The only difficulty was that he didn't have much time. It had to be a spectacular and timely event that would require the French Lion's presence elsewhere when Eric came before the other members. Niall was certain he could control the outcome with the bastard out of the picture. There was only one other member of the undead contingent on the Tribunal, and he was a reasonable fellow for a Vamp.

Now, what scenario would best serve his purpose? A threat to the Vamp population would be the most effective. A scroll through the Supe assassins' web site might turn up some likely candidates to release a spell or plague. He could read the bios and specialties, and then perhaps a target would come to him. It often worked like that. Calling down mayhem used to be a lot more inconvenient before the advent of the Web.

Today, a client with a problem simply sent an anonymous inquiry with a few details and waited for a response. Then both parties satisfied form by haggling over the fee. When the terms were agreed upon the deed was all but done.

Upon confirmation of the event the happy client wired the fee to the assassin's bank account. It was all very cut-and-dried and so unlike the dark ages or preceding centuries when communication took months, if not years. Punishments were harder to come by as well.

Recalling he'd recently heard a rumor that assassins could also check a related site for available jobs, he wondered if the rumor was true. It made little sense, as the assignments of necessity could not include the cleansing of unwanted members of the Supe community. Why alert the victims and risk a counter-attack on your stronghold or family members before the original hit could be carried out?

More out of boredom than curiosity, he googled a few terms that might pull up the website. He broke the bank when he entered _'Alternatives to Snatch and Grab.' _The information he sought was buried under some well-know Supe keywords, one of them being_ Black_ and the other being _Water_.

The second and third items on the list of available assignments triggered an involuntary growl and made the hair on his head hurt as his animal nature roared to life. It was thinly veiled, but reading between the lines, he realized someone in the Supe community had put out a contract on his son and the True Human under his protection.

He'd have to act quickly to pull them both in before real damage was done. He grabbed his mobile as he moved from the recliner to a more comfortable seashell-pink tufted silk lounging sofa. In his head he was assembling the Wolf call he would make to Eric. Since he wasn't taking time to create a subterfuge to prevent eavesdroppers, he knew he was risking other members of the Pack hearing him alert his son to the danger and didn't give a damn. Hell, he'd stand outside and howl if that's what it took to bring Eric to safety in the bunker.

Meanwhile, he was text messaging the Demon and everyone else he could think of who could assemble at his mansion. He'd have to wait for Eric to respond, but he would demand his son leave the Elven Heim and join him in relative safety while he put in motion the idea that had just come to him. With the Tribunal's rat bastard leader out of the picture, he felt certain he could manipulate the IST.

Provided the Storm God Ishkur didn't feel compelled to pay another visit and disrupt his plans.

* * *

**SPOV**

I waited until Eric and I were relatively safe inside the nice Elf Dan's truck and retracing our path down the back roads Pam had taken earlier to reach the Elven Heim. My Wolf owed me some explanations, now that he was awake. Neither of us seemed to be as much injured by the earlier events of the night as we had felt before falling asleep in the Elves' Woodlands.

"Eric?" My voice held the question.

"Yes?"

I snuggled in closer to his body; after the near-sex in his office, and the shared nudity we'd experienced, I felt confident that I could treat his chiseled, muscled chest and arm as mine. I might hesitate about making claim to anything lower at the moment, but I'd see how he reacted to my touch. His thick, dark, curly hair was a total magnet. I gave a small sigh of pleasure as I traced my fingers through it. For now, I'd stay above the waist with my petting.

Please, God, we sure didn't need any more accidental shifting to other forms for the remainder of the night. The clock on the dashboard read 4:30 a.m.; not much night left.

It was a grown-up thought, the first of many. I began happily imagining myself soon learning all sorts of rules for dating a Werewolf. Too bad no manuals existed. I resolved to search the Web for a good site to post whatever tips I picked up. Such a site might have some useful information to share with a first-time Were dater such as me as well.

Smirking, I acknowledged the silliness of the whole idea. (What Supe would post information about their secret world on the Internet?) Instead, I concentrated on not irritating the hot stud who seemed to always want me, good idea or bad, and better yet felt compelled to guard my safety against all threats. It was a deadly combination of prized male qualities; any normal girl would eagerly begin shedding her clothes if asked nicely by the man in question. At least, that was my rationale for earlier events, acknowledging that I'd definitely engaged in world-class shedding and other things. But would he want me again, considering each time we'd tried had inexplicably seemed to lead to disaster? _Only one way to find out_, Sookie. I dusted off my interrogatory skills and happily began.

"Eric, gotta give you props for the way you handled that scary Vine thing and pulling off our escape back there."

A subtle shifting of his upper body let me know he was sitting up slightly straighter under my praise.

"You liked that, huh?" A smile flitted across his face, a rare expression for the too often oh-so-serious Wolf. Of course, we'd almost gotten killed back there by those horror-movie Vines.

Time to go in for my version of a kill before the buzz was lost.

"Yep. So good. I was really impressed." _That should do it._ "Umm, who is Ish-something? Pam mentioned him earlier while you were sleeping."

He slumped again, and a small sigh escaped his lips--full, red lips I wanted to suck between my teeth as I watched him expertly handle the truck over the back-country roads. We seemed to be speeding towards Atlanta and away from the emptiness of farm country.

Although I wasn't sure exactly why the countryside was dangerous, I could feel the subtle threat now. The Heim itself had seemed to be a sort of magical fortress somehow contained within the walls of a run-down farmhouse. The Woodlands had been immense; had Eric and I 'gone down the rabbit hole', not realizing we had shrunk and then regained our full size just before Dan appeared?

It was a puzzler, and I just knew Eric would never tell me what had happened. I'd heard from Granmere that Alice in Wonderland was probably just a drug-induced fantasy written by a closet pedophile, and as far as I knew neither Eric nor I had been given any drugs. I'd almost given up on finding a solution when I was struck by a very good idea. I could waste time trying to get answers from Eric, or just maybe Pam could be persuaded to give me a few hints. The best tool in my arsenal was my Belk's employee discount; I seriously doubted she would be able to resist the thought of 40% off the store's sale prices if I offered to take her shopping on the designer level.

Pleased now that I had a plan, I resolved first to throw myself on her mercy as I sought information._ 'After all,' _I'd tell Pam, _'what could I be expected to know about such magical things?'_

My giddiness evaporated as I recalled that, in fact, I was_ just_ a Belk's saleswoman, transported for the weekend to Supe-land so Eric could save me from some Rogue Vampires. Come Monday morning, bloodsuckers after me or not, I'd better be back at work selling lipstick and perfume if I wanted to earn my rent money. I wondered if any of it would seem real once I began swiping AmEx cards, bagging purchases, and unloading the new stock into designated drawers. _Doubtful, _answered the Magic 8-Ball.

Eric gave me a funny look just then. It definitely made me question if he was reading my emotions again. I resolved to be more careful around him.

Wolf-boy hadn't answered my question about the Ish-guy; I couldn't help noticing it had clearly been a mood-deflater, much like a pin prick in a balloon, but I tried once more. "Are you truly not allowed to tell me anything, Eric?"

My hand dropped from his chest and landed on bare skin; the shorts Dan had found for Eric were a little too small, but I liked the way they looked. The concept of 'too much' didn't apply when it came to exposing the sort of thigh muscles Eric possessed.

Without thinking, I began stroking those muscles, the tips of my fingers just teasing the skin under the edge of the frayed and split cut-offs. So enthralled was I by the sensations of sweeping my hand unimpeded over his leg, I'd almost forgotten my question by the time he relented and answered.

"I'm a danger to you, Sookie." When I just looked at him, he removed my hand from his leg with the explanation that he couldn't concentrate if I kept it up.

_Hah!_ Maybe _I_ was the danger here, Eric.

"Go on," I prompted him, liking the 'unable to concentrate' part of the conversation and hoping he'd expand on that theme.

"As much as I can, I've tried to protect you. But tonight, my other form manifested. He's known as Ishkur. Had he fully manifested, my impulsive act…" He stopped and turned briefly to gauge my reaction. When he saw that I was just watching him, he continued.

"When I took you, I risked him…" He ground to a stop. He swallowed. He fidgeted.

I helped. "Eric, I was feeling your…um, stuff dribbling down my leg. I know what happened between us. Didn't you feel it, too?"

Damn, if I was too shy to just say _'jism'_, what the freak was I doing having sex with him?

He did not turn a happy face to me, as I'd hoped he would. Before he said something I wouldn't like, I interjected.

"It felt so right, though. Like we belonged together. Maybe for more than just this weekend, right?"

Quietly cursing my inability to filter out those brain-dead lines before they hit my mouth and escaped, I could only pray we'd both been magically teleported to the pages of a .99 Romance novel. If not, I was sure my one-sided sentiments would drive him away. With a supreme effort, I refocused on bringing my conversation back to 'just the facts', whatever they were. I'd read in _Self_ that 'factual exchanges' was the preferred form of sharing for guys. I snorted; clearly the author had never met my Werewolf.

But while I was thinking about the differences between the sexes, much to my surprise the Wolf in question began happily humming. _Humming?_ Was that going to be his only reaction to my feeble-brained confession? I recognized it as the same tune he'd been playing on his sax earlier for Pam and me, an event that now seemed like weeks ago.

Joining in, I supplied the lyrics I knew for the bossa nova version of the song that began _'Tall and tanned, and young, and lovely, the girl from Ipanema…" _

"Wish I had my sax right now." Eric had turned his head to murmur in my ear. "Sorry about the cancelled performance tonight, although I liked some of the reasons for it." He suddenly began cursing. Oh yeah, his sax, the speakers, the mic stands, and other goodies were still in the back of his SUV, parked in the front drive of the Heim.

I soothed him by reminding him that Pam would eventually leave and would need to take his car. She could return his equipment to him, probably tomorrow morning. He agreed, still disgusted that his favorite instruments would be spending the night alone in the back of his Explorer. Some snarky remarks flashed through my mind about lonely instruments, but I didn't share.

Both of us relatively calm again, I wondered where we were headed. Well, actually, I had a ton of questions, but I'd settle for an answer to just this one.

"Where are we going?"

Instead of answering me, Eric's face contorted as if someone was yelling in his ear. He swerved off the dark country road we were zooming down and just avoided driving into a very deep ditch. That sort of mishap might have had some serious consequences.

Leaving the motor running, he shot out of the car door and stood away from the noise of the vehicle. After a few minutes and still nodding his head even as he grimaced, he climbed back in the seat next to me, and we continued on to Atlanta. I was only guessing at our destination; the Wolf was now sunk in thought and no longer humming.

Shaking himself, a gesture I'd already come to recognize and like, he finally began to talk to me. I would like to have been told what had happened that caused the change, but for now I just listened.

"In answer to your question, Sookie, we are meeting with the head of the d'Vargs. He is the most powerful Werewolf in the Americas, who coincidentally lives right here in Atlanta." He paused. "He also happens to be my Sire." All said without one whit of emotion.

"Have I figured out that 'Sire' is another word for father?" I carefully posed this question, not trusting that Eric's clam-like ways might not make an instant reappearance.

"Yes."

Well, that settled that. Observing the dark expression on his face, the teeth pressed into his lower lip (oh, how I envied those teeth), and the tenseness of his body, I decided to give him a chance to explain at his leisure. No point in pushing. I'd seen enough scrunched male faces when discussing 'daddy' to recognize the signs. Eric had issues.

As the City lights grew brighter, Eric's tension level grew proportionately. I didn't know the source of his anxiety and didn't wish to anger the Wolf by pressing him with questions about his parent. Although in truth, I was excited to meet another member of Eric's immediate family. I was a little short on family members myself, so it was always a thrill to meet the extended family of those I knew. And as a result of our adventures together, I reminded myself, Eric had become much more than a casual acquaintance to me.

"Hon, I guess I'm meeting your Dad, right?"

A shake of the head was the extent of his answer.

"He's not your dad?" Now I was really confused.

Long sigh. "He sired me, Sookie, and there's a difference. He hasn't been around me for me very much. I wouldn't call him a father as you Humans use the term." While I was absorbing this bit of background, Eric had continued. "If I ever have any young, I will be a much better parent." The voice held a note of determination that I wasn't expecting. _Oh, shit_, now why did the thought of Eric as a father give me such an intense thrill? It was a shiver-inducing idea, and I barely knew him.

"So your relationship is a little strained?" I'd thought about my word choice before trying it.

"Do you recall that I am to protect you?"

I nodded.

"Sleeping with you was a major mistake."

I cringed. _Did he not have any idea how much those words hurt?_ And it had seemed more like screwing than sleeping, but I didn't bother to correct him. If you couldn't really remember much of the events, did it count as sex? Before I could respond, Eric shared some more.

"And I expect there will be deadly serious consequences for it."

His Dad was going to punish him for sleeping with a woman? This father-son relationship was more twisted than even I could have imagined. I said the first thing that came into my head.

"Will I ever see you again after tonight?"

A long silence, unbroken by either of us, seemed to give the lie to our earlier intimacy and his calling me his 'love.' Maybe I was tired, but I felt a deep upwelling of sadness that Eric and I might really be separated by his Dad. And all because of doing something I couldn't even really remember all that well. Weren't we both adults? It so wasn't fair.

I started to pull away from him then and was briefly startled when I heard what sounded like a threat rumble deep in Eric's throat. _Surely not_?

Shifting hands on the steering wheel, he carefully draped his right arm around my shoulder. "Don't move away from me, Sookie. I can't let this happen this way."

Numb, I agreed to stay close by his side. But what had happened back there on the road?

His breathing quickened, and I knew he was going to turn to me for a kiss. I closed my eyes and tilted my face up to his, ready for it.

Instead, he started talking.

"Sook, I'm going to pull into the next empty parking lot I see for a few minutes. We have less than an hour until dawn. I'm immune from any more form-shifting when the moon's power begins to wane. However when I shift again tomorrow night with the advent of the full moon, it won't be safe for you to be with me for several days. Do you…know what I want?"

First he talks about separation and now he hints at sex? Was he dumping me or not? If so, he'd sure picked a winning strategy. And who'd believe me if I repeated what he seemed to be saying to me: _'Hey, Sookie, I'm a Werewolf for the next four or five days, so I think we need some time apart. But can we fuck first?_'

Awesome, Eric. Just perfect.

Voice much softer now that the car's engine was stilled, he wanted to know if I knew what he was asking.

"I'm sorry, Eric," I said primly. "I didn't hear your question."

In answer, he removed his hand from my ass, where it had somehow drifted, and reached behind the truck's seats. Grinning, he first pulled up an enormous sleeping bag and then a large rolled blanket, dropping both on my lap. His change in attitude was infectious, and grinning back, I caught that his teeth were clearly just human-size.

"Lover, this is a deserted parking lot with a lot of tree cover. I solemnly promise you I will not shift again this close to daylight." He paused. "Let me make love to you."

_Was it really such a bad idea?_ Ignoring the deeper feelings I didn't want to examine right now, I rationalized that screwing Eric would be a permissible form of wish fulfillment. After all, I was only taking what I wanted from the Wolf from the first moment I'd seen him at the _O'Hara's Mansion_ club Friday night in his straight guy gear. If I never saw him again after this weekend, at least my curiosity would have been satisfied.

The thought of losing him hurt, but what had I been thinking, planning a future with a guy whose monthly equivalent of a 'period' turned him into a mythical, bloodthirsty beast? Who knew when I might want to leave some silver bullets lying around the house, something he'd be sure to protest. It could never have worked out. And having his little silky-haired puppies was so completely out-of-the question, right?

Besides, if I'd almost slept with a Vampire, how much worse could it be to screw a Werewolf and actually remember the event this time?

Naturally, I didn't share these thoughts. Instead, my response was to lean across his body to open the truck's door, accidentally-on-purpose brushing against the front of his jean cut-offs. I could immediately tell I'd make the wise choice.

"Let's get out," I said. He started to lean back into the car to check the glove compartment. Since I knew what he was seeking, I stopped him.

"Eric, it's too late now for any protection, right?" I hadn't forgotten the feel of his semen dripping down my leg while I was trying to concentrate on whatever it was Pam was telling me.

He grinned. "I hate rubbers," he needlessly told me, yet again. That was one fact I knew for sure about my Supe-lover.

"Yeah, me too." I knew he didn't know that about me, and I was happy to share.

Faster than I would have thought possible, I found myself deposited on top of the sleeping bag in the back of the pick-up, the light blanket rolled over us as Eric hungrily practiced his kissing technique on my lips, and his hands sought to learn the outline of my body beneath my borrowed clothes.

I was past ready to shrug out of them and began to wiggle my arm free from my t-shirt. I wasn't really paying attention to the Wolf who was absorbed in the fun he seemed to be having learning how to pleasure himself with his lips. _'My little Were-gin,'_ I thought fondly as the phrase from Warhol's Dracula classic I'd seen at Bill's house last weekend came readily to mind. I nearly snorted at the image of Eric as a fourteen-year-old schoolboy in drag. I doubted I could explain the whole sequence to Eric without killing the mood. Although if he wanted to press me up against a wall and tear off my panties, I wouldn't object.

As he moved up for some air, the action pressed his lower body tighter into mine, and this time I let myself moan my desire.

"Am I hurting you, Sookie?" he asked, the anxiety apparent in his tone.

"Not that kind of hurt, Eric." Unbelievably, the earlier internal agony I'd felt from our back office make-out session was gone. It seemed to be a miraculous recovery. I wondered if the spell Pam had been chanting as we fell asleep together in the bower had been another, more powerful spell of healing. Just at the moment, I didn't care about the 'why' of it.

Abandoning kissing for something better, Eric assisted in my earlier fruitless wiggling efforts, finally tugging the t-shirt off my shoulders. Surging forward, he took my breasts as if he'd not seen them less than an hour ago in the Elves' Woodlands. While he sucked, and kneaded, and rolled my nipples, I abandoned him to his activities as I worked on sliding my too-large shorts down my hips. His deep black hair covered most of my chest and hid his face from my view. I only wanted one thing: I soon had the cotton shorts pushed almost past my knees.

Wolf-boy himself was still wearing too many clothes for my taste. I moved to remedy this failure by gripping the collar of his t-shirt and without much effort, tore it in half and ripped it from his body.

Eric stopped working my nipple in his mouth long enough to grunt "Keep going, Lover." I needed no further encouragement. I shoved my palms beneath his cut-offs and finding the seam, I barely yanked the material with both hands and opened a large hole in the seat. It took only a few tugs more to have Eric naked and beginning now to do his own moaning around the flesh filling his mouth.

Echoing his sounds and desperate to feel him grinding against my center, I scooted down to make more satisfying contact with the heavy weight of his cock pressed against my thigh. When he wouldn't move, I lifted his hips above me and pulled him up to position him against my heat. I was so eager to feel his tip slide over my folds and work me into a frenzy that I couldn't wait. I held him with one hand and used the other to grasp the silken length of him, grazing my thumb over the slippery, swollen head.

I admitted it: I wanted his cock to sink into me and for him to ride me like the animal I accepted that he really was. Although until he was ready, I was going to use his dick as my own, stroking it over and over until he relented and took me. At the moment, I was so hungry for him, I would have accepted any condition he offered if he'd just screw me.

I felt that delicious clenching low in my belly; I'd never wanted any man more than my Werewolf. Time he understood how I really felt…

Eric's voice, harsh and low, interrupted these thoughts as I held him immobile above me, one hand supporting his full weight as I stroked him from base to tip. I was definitely reveling in the strength of his thick, smooth, and beautifully veined velvety-soft cock.

"Put me down, Sookie. There's something wrong here."

I didn't want to, and began stroking him faster, twisting my grip up over the tip at the end of each stroke and spreading his juice down and over as my hand retreated.

His breathing became more labored as Eric began to struggle in my embrace while using his hips to push his heated skin more completely into my stroking. He truly had the largest cock I'd ever seen, now that I was looking at it instead of him, dreaming of shoving him over my screaming need and down into me.

"Eric, now, do it now," I wasn't above begging him to take me, although I had already taken him in hand, my grip firm but gentle.

"Let me go, god, and I will. Promise," his voice rumbled from deep in his chest.

_Forget that._ No way was I releasing either him or his dick. The decision made, I took the tip and moved his swollen head in one long, slow, delicious lick up and down and over my center. He was groaning my name and still trying to twist out of my grip, but I held him firmly above me as I finally fit myself over his erection and shoved forward as hard as I could.

He was mine.

And to prove it, I wanted him buried to the hilt, or I might never be happy again.

I had the stray thought that my not being happy could be bad news for many, and then dismissed it to concentrate on Eric as he surrendered to the sensations and began to move freely above me. As his hips thrust faster and faster until he had to be moving at Supe speed, in one corner of my mind I marveled at my ability _to actually hold him above me_. Regardless of the strength required to do so, my Wolf had still managed to sink into a crouch so he could fit his groin against mine like a puzzle piece, pushing in as deeply as I'd let him. He was just at the right angle and before I had time to think of anything else, I could feel myself begin to vibrate and rise to meet him, keeping time with the blurring motion of his hips.

"Eric, don't stop, don't ever stop." This time it was an order, not a request.

And with those words, I felt him drive into me once more, and then tense as he had his release. I could just tell it was a very good one, and it lasted an impressive amount of time. The pulsing pushed his seed deep inside me; I liked that idea very much.

And although I had not had my orgasm yet, I contentedly nestled Eric further into the circle of my legs and settled my heels on his back. I'd wait for him to recover, and I'd make him do it again. Maybe several times.

Third time had to be a charm, right?

* * *

A/N: Is it E/S/N if one party fails to… ahem, well, you know what I mean? Will she do so during the next round or will she have to fake it? Would it be worth it to fake it for Eric? (Don't worry, we won't be running a poll on this subject here at the SVM fandom anytime soon. Your secret is safe.)

Maybe Eric needs some additional practice. Or maybe there is something different about the Sook. Maybe both, right?

BTW, in the next chapter, the Rogue Vamps finally get some action. No, not that kind of action.

* * *

One last goodie. Have you read FarDareisMai2's _Kindred_? It is her o/s entry for the Mentalward contest in Twiland. The fic is original, intense, beautiful, twisted, lemony, and ultimately fun. You could read it in 20 min and then leave her a nice review, please. I absolutely loved it.

* * *

If you would like a character summary-to-date, here goes. I promise to wrap up this story soon.

Eric: A 120 year-old True Were. Parents are True Weres Niall and now deceased Nemia. He has been chosen on the fly by his Sire Niall to protect Sookie. He spent three decades hiding out as a wolf in Antarctica and just recently returned to the U.S. Although he is a talented musician, he has a cover identity (Irick) as a Salon owner and often works as a stylist in one of Niall's many money-laundering businesses. While Eric shifts into his Werewolf form during the full moon, he can also manifest his third form, that of the Storm God Ishkur, an ancient Sumerian God. Eric hates Ishkur, or so he says. Incidentally, Eric's specialty is decapitation, and he has issues with his Sire.

Sookie: A twenty-something Southerner transplanted to Atlanta. She works at Belks, a department store. Sookie is a very rare True Human sought by some Rogue Vampires. They plan to capture her Superstar self for an unauthorized breeding program to produce more True Humans, who may be the only source of antibodies that will save the lives of Supes someday. Kinda vague, huh? I'll do better, I promise. (word of advice: never believe a whiny writer)

Pam: A mixed-blood Supernatural being who won't reveal her age. In her mind, she is mostly Elf, but relies on traits inherited from her Demon father to save Eric. She has a mysterious tattoo on her torso. Pam is paying off her father's debt to Niall by acting as Eric's Protectress and working in his Salon as a colorist. Pam's Supe name is Meliel, an Elf name. Eric thinks of her mostly as his Demon. She doesn't like to acknowledge that she is half-Demon and has issues with her Elf relatives.

Niall d'Varg: A True Werewolf whose age exceeds a millennium by roughly 500 years. He is Sire to Eric. Niall is the acting head of the ASCPPTH, an organization that is focused on preserving True Humans. He is conflicted because he doesn't really believe in his own organization. Niall has a lot of shady businesses, many centered in the Atlanta area.

**Minor Characters:**

William Compton: A 200 year-old Vamp and a full-fledged Protector. Niall assigned him to keep watch over Sookie when she moved to Atlanta from Shreveport. He disappeared from Sookie's life after six weeks of dating when some rival Vamps sent him to his second death to satisfy a long-forgotten debt. Will 'lived' in Smyrna and owned a Ford dealership. The police are still investigating his mysterious disappearance.

Sam Merlotte: A Shreveport Shapeshifter assigned years ago by Niall to keep watch over Sookie. He fell in love with her and stopped filing reports, so Niall pulled him from the assignment. Sookie's heart was broken when Sam ended their relationship, although he loved her as well. She had expected to marry Sam and didn't realize he was a Supe. Sam's betrayal and the loss of her Granmere were the reasons she left Shreveport for Atlanta. Niall also pulled a few strings to bring her into his area.

**Truly Minor Characters:**

Amelia: A recent member of the Undead contingent, she's developed a nasty shopping habit. Is a noted Vampire assassin and is trying to find Sookie for the Rogue Vampires who have offered a bounty on her.

Catalides: A Vampire investigator working for the Rat Bastard who sends a three-page summary detailing circumstantial evidence that proves Eric killed Vampire Leonardo.

The Druids: a.k.a. "The Others" Led by the male Arar, his companion hunters are Liger and Divicus, also male. They are always hungry and will happily spit and roast a Werewolf or a Demon. Arar is in love with the female Elf Zostariel, but hasn't yet found the courage to declare himself.

The French Lion/Rat Bastard: Niall's bete noire, 'Leostet' is the head of the International Supernatural Tribunal. He's had it in for Niall for centuries. He has plans to capture, torture, and possibly dispose of Niall's Werewolf son, Eric. He is one sexy Frenchman who has a history of disposing of Wolves.

Felipe: A delish Werewolf who works as a receptionist in Eric's hair salon.

Granmere: Most folks have one, and Sookie is no exception. The lady, now deceased, was a Cajun and by definition must be classified as a True Human, right?

Gunfrundan: a.k.a. 'Dan' A male Elf. He helps Eric and Sookie escape the Elven Heim. His mom and Pam's mom are sisters. Eric may have to hurt him if he doesn't behave around Sookie.

Halliday: Sister to Will, the now truly dead Vampire. She manages the evening shift at Belk's Spa. Like Will, she seems to have disappeared.

Jason_:_ He's older brother to Sookie, but not a True Human. (I know, it's complicated.) Works on oil rigs in the Gulf.

Landrel: A male Elf who can read the emotions of others, including True Humans.

Leonardo: A Vampire scientist Eric tracked and killed on Niall's orders. Leonardo's second death was the reason Eric had to disappear for three decades. The Vamp held the secret to Vamp reproduction techniques with Humans.

Rogue Vampires: I haven't told you anything about them yet…

Trey: A Werewolf musician friend of Eric. They meet him in _Clancy's for Jazz,_ and Sookie learns several Supes are watching over her. Unfortunately, that fact doesn't save her from the attentions of the ancient Sumerian Storm God.

Vane Z: A Werewolf scientist, relative of Niall's, who is working on finding an alternative to the blood of True Humans.

Zostariel: A female Elf-in-charge and a relative to Pam. She doesn't want the Elven Heim (dwelling) to be contaminated by Sookie and the draw of her True Blood to the male Elves.


	14. Ch 13: A Mutual Declaration

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

* * *

What winds doth blow in central Colorado during the winter months, with temperatures often below freezing. Fabulous.

Luckily, Sookie and Eric are canoodling, or screwing, in the back of a borrowed pick-up truck on a warm Atlanta night in a dark parking lot.

* * *

Chapter 13

"_Eric, don't stop; don't ever stop." This time it was an order, not a request._

_And with those words, I felt him drive into me once more, and then tense as he had his release._

_Although I had not had an orgasm, I contentedly nestled him further into the circle of my legs and locked my ankles behind his back. I'd wait for him to recover, and I'd make him do it again. Maybe several times._

_Third time had to be a charm, right?_

A light snore startled me from my less-than-satisfied post-coital musings. I paled.

"Eric, with all the recent drama, you aren't thinking about falling asleep, are you?" Cue the accusatory tone. Yes, I was fucked, _ahem_, but was it necessary to hang out the welcome sign? _'Calling all Sookie-seeking fiends, I'm here for the taking while my little Were-boyfriend enjoys his nap-time.'_

Needless-to-say, I also wasn't very pleased at the prospect of a sex-drained Were draped over me if Vampires or some other form of creepy Southern-fried Supernatural being was seeking my tender flesh.

"Wake-the-fuck-up, Wolf-man." I tried pulling his hair, hoping for some sort of reaction.

"Sookie…" he mumbled and turned his head away from me.

With Eric, my hotshot protector, now temporarily dead to the world, it was well past time for a sober evaluation of my limited options. Although I was sorely tempted to dress him in pink tights and leave him to sleep-it-off in the truck (if I could only somehow rustle up the tights), doing so wouldn't get me much. Plus, even I knew it was a bad idea to even think about leaving whatever limited protection was offered by the flatbed of the Ford.

'_Think!'_ I harshly admonished myself. I'd sort it out logically, as my Granmere had taught me to do at an early age. Desperately wishing I had a Diet Coke, I began.

Fact Number One: _Eric and I were both more vulnerable to capture by the bad Vamps with my Wolf sleeping off the effects of his orgasm. _

I was momentarily diverted by another stunner of an idea: _Were there mysterious-and-possibly-deadly 'Others' equally interested in our capture?_

I shook Eric again to get his opinion on the subject, only to elicit another stifled groan. Well, I'd have to file away that question away for later, if there was a _'later.'_

Fact Number Two: _Where was MY orgasm?_ Reminding myself it was sadly M-I-A, I grumpily shifted my hips and unceremoniously lifted my sleeping Wolf to settle him off to my side. In spite of my irritation with his typical male behavior, I couldn't help but notice he did have a fantastic ass. I resisted the temptation to bend over and kiss it, intent on completing my analysis.

Fact Number Three: _I should not have been able to move a 200 pounds-plus Werewolf_. Granted, in the privacy of my own bathroom, if the moon was dark, and it was Thursday, I would possibly admit to wearing a size 10, but only during the month(s) following the December holidays. Still, the weight differential was sizeable between the two of us; there definitely was something odd here.

Okay, time for a Side Note: _Where exactly were we? _Yeah, I knew it was a parking lot, but were we even close to Eric's Sire and the safety his house would afford us?

I paused, distracted as a sixth sense suggested I sit up and look around.

I instantly popped up to a sitting position, no longer encumbered by my sated Wolf, and immediately spied a Vampire flying through the air with a large, evil-looking stick in her hand. I had time to notice she was extremely well-shod before I took evasive action.

* * *

The slim, beautiful, young vampire slid her palms up and over her finely muscled arms, nervous anticipation heightening her awareness as she scanned the area for her prize, the True Human she sought. The witch hadn't been very precise with her scrying, covering her incompetence by suggesting the target's movement made pinpointing exact locations more difficult than usual. Or so the bitch had whined before Amelia grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. Leaving the little blonde tweety-bird unconscious had just barely made-up for the insult of the second outrageous fee the Witch had demanded from Amelia for her services.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of her prize over the four mile square she had scanned as recommended by her avian-like former companion. If she did not scent the True Human within the next few minutes, she was returning to the witch and finishing the job. She thought again that draining the Human would almost compensate for her so-far totally fucked night…she froze.

Silently cursing, she realized her irritation had so clouded her senses she very nearly missed the pick-up truck hidden behind the trees ahead of her. It was a long block away, and now Amelia concentrated. She caught the scent of the True Were and was momentarily distracted by the idea of draining the sweet animal blood. Knowing it was fresh and on the paw was very distracting; plus she was certain the animal had been at the aborted snatch-and-grab jazz club site earlier. She shivered in anticipation. Two-for-one! But first she would need a weapon against the Were.

Mentally retracing her steps, she recalled passing just the store front she needed. After returning to it and easily breaking the lock on the back door, she ripped a hole in the heavy metal gate and managed to enter the building without tripping the alarm, giggling as she did so. It was an absolute candy store for someone in her profession, and her discerning eye immediately focused on the long-handled tool with the deliciously vicious kick. It was covered in a sleek sheath of black Vibram with a molded handle; she tested its weight and found it to be perfect. The Wolf would never know what leveled him.

After he was taken down, she'd grab the True Human and deliver her mostly unharmed, taking just a sip or five of her blood. With luck, she'd retrieve her payment in time for her daily rest. Later, she'd go shopping.

Amelia cautiously approached the truck, having squelched her first instinct to rush it, vault over the side, and land on top of her prey; Weres could be unpredictable, and she didn't dare risk ruining her outfit. The scent of sex was thick around the vehicle; she'd noticed it immediately and hoped it meant she could catch both of them unawares. Suppressing several serial voyeuristic urges playing in her head, she readied her Were-immobilizer, as she thought of the inelegant but perfect stun gun, and stopped, crouching, a few yards from the bed. Just as she launched herself at the vehicle's preoccupied couple, having determined the positions of the post-coitus pair, the female target sat up and stared directly at her.

It was unnerving to be confronted by a mere Human when one was a successful Vampire Assassin with excellent clothes sense. Amelia hesitated just a fraction of a second while flying through the air, confidence restored as she realized the Were was asleep, snoozing after what must have been a vigorous mating session with the female.

It was a fateful decision, because the Human executed an impossibly accurate jerk of limbs, so quick even her eyes could not follow it, and the Vampire girl found herself gripped tightly by the throat, feet dangling, useless upper body bent backward over the side of the flatbed. She watched helplessly as her vaunted weapon, now beyond her reach, continued rolling uselessly over the lot's uneven concrete surface before slowing, eventually catching in a large seam. The blonde girl was using essentially the same grip Amelia had used on the witch earlier; the irony was not lost on her.

"Are those Manolo cage boots?" The incongruity of the question, delivered in a charming Southern accent, startled Amelia from her fruitless examination of the lost stun gun. In response, she stilled her frantically kicking feet and wrapped her hands, claws out, around the steel in the questioner's arm. After some vigorous but pointless struggling, she acknowledged her situation was tenuous at best and simply gave up. The target clearly wasn't Human; the assignment must have been a set-up. Her undead life as the Vamps' best female assassin (that gender modifier still rankled) was over.

"Do it quickly," she requested, her dignity intact, as she waited for the inevitable decapitation. It was what everyone in the Supe community seemed to instinctively 'know' about Vamps—rip the head off and 'poof'—no more annoying Vamp_. What a way to go!_

"Are you a Rogue Vamp?" The syrupy feminine voice was beginning to grate. Didn't her captor, soon-to-be executioner, know the rules? Fraternization with the victim just wasn't polite.

"I'm waiting." Amelia felt it was time to move things along. Neck held in such a way as to prevent her from clearly seeing the female holding her, she idly wondered if she would meet any of her victims in the afterlife. That could be embarrassing. And was the Were _still _sleeping it off? The not-Human (as she had begun to think of her, in the mere seconds remaining to her) must have really exhausted the poor beast.

More firmly this time, the question came, "Attention, please. Are you a girl Rogue Vampire sent to kidnap me, or something else?"

_Girl?_ Quelling her impatience, she decided there was no harm in answering. The sun would be up soon, and one way or another, the not-Human had the advantage. It was annoying that she'd been Vampire for such a short time, but such was her fate. "I'm a trained Vamp assassin, but this job was presented as a simple snatch-and-grab. I've no idea what you mean by the phrase 'Rogue Vampire.' Aren't all Vampires by our very nature_, rogues_? If not, I would not have been double-crossed. Surely you know this, or you wouldn't be about to execute on a contract for my final death." She ended her overly long speech in rather a snit.

Rather than reply to Amelia's monologue, the not-Human seemed to be considering her next move. There was the sound of a fist hitting soft flesh, and the Were was heard to groan, 'Sookie?'

"Eric, help here please. I've caught a Vampire sneaking up on us, and I don't know what to do with her. Is she one of the 'rogue' creepies?"

The shuffling behind her increased, and a deep growl was her only warning before the Were vaulted over the side of the truck to land just outside her reach either by foot or claw.

"Sookie? How did you capture a Vampire?" The Were's voice was deep, rumbling in his throat; his naked form was most spectacular in its masculine display. She wasn't much into male animals, but his chest was well-formed, his thick, dark mane a heavy mass inviting fingers to wrap around his unruly locks, and his hips and long torso were compelling indeed. He'd definitely been recently aroused and she enjoyed the display of midnight curls emphasizing the juncture of his...

"Eric, put some clothes on, for pity's sake!" The not-Human sounded pissed at the obvious interest of her captive Vamp in her overly-curious beast.

"Err, right." In the sort of effortless leap only a very healthy specimen of a True Were lineage could make, Eric's movement tore him from her assessing gaze. The large thump signaled his successful landing in the Ford's bed. He mumbled some words to his companion.

Amelia's hearing was impeccable, but she'd somehow missed what Eric the Were had said.

"Find Dan's shorts I was wearing; I _know_ I ripped yours in half." A few grunts preceded the unmistakable sounds of clothing being pulled over naked thighs and a zipper making its swift ascent.

Several terminally boring seconds later, the Supe Hero Were was once again standing before her, clad in a pair of denim shorts with a rather obvious zipper problem. She felt a twitter bubble up but didn't dare let it out. Just for something to do, she tried struggling in the not-Human's grip and met with no success.

"Sookie, heh, perhaps your arm is tiring of your grip on the Vamp's throat?" The Were was speaking again, now sounding put-out about his lesser role in the proceedings.

"She interrupted us. Can you restrain her if I let her go, and then we can continue?" The female's voice held a slightly darker tone than earlier, and Amelia couldn't help wondering if the Were had caught the tell-tale change as well.

"Vamp? What is your name?" The inflection was much harsher than when he had addressed his female companion; it was clear he would brook no evasiveness.

"Amelia." She was about to be decapitated; what difference to the night's so-called client if she agreed to answer a few basic questions?

"In less than thirty minutes, the sun will rise. You'll be toast, err, dust. Care to explain why you are here, and who hired you before that happens? We do have a blanket that might save you from the worst of the burns, if you cooperate." Eric's voice had assumed the timbre of command, but she suspected he was a very young Wolf, just recently matured. Hmmm, if he wanted something, perhaps she might bargain for something in return? And was the foolish Were intimating she might be given the opportunity to escape?

"I answered an anonymous web advertisement for a simple snatch-and-grab of this blonde…Human." She paused, watching for an opening if he moved closer, but he remained just out of her reach. It would have helped if her feet could have found purchase, but it would be her luck to stumble across a target in a jacked-up pick-up with oversized tires, leaving her well-shod feet many inches shy of the concrete.

"Continue." Looking solicitously at his female, he asked, "Are you tiring now, dearest?"

"Can you put a rocket it in, Eric? We're burning Wolf-free minutes when I could be sucking your heated skin between my teeth, or skimming my eager lips over your treasure trail, or even licking a long, wet…" Amelia could actually feel the ache beginning to emanate from the eager beast watching the woman she still had been unable to twist around to examine more closely.

_Sigh. Lucky bitch! _Normally she hated the animal kingdom, but for this lusty Wolf she might have made an exception_. _But it clearly was so not happening in this undead lifetime, considering her major screw-up that had led to her being captured.

Impatient now as she contemplated her failed mission, she spoke up. "Excuse me for breaking in, but just what are you two newlyweds planning to do with me, now that you have captured a rather hungry Vampire? If anyone's interested in slaking my thirst, that is?"

"Should we take her to your Sire's, Eric?" The questioning naiveté and the lush tones had returned in the target's voice. _Did she have a split personality?_ Amelia wondered if there might be another explanation, but given the circumstances she was rather short on ideas.

"I'll restrain her, and cover her in the blankets. She can make the trip in the back of the truck; there are some tie-downs I can use. Let's go, Sookie."

The not-Human female grumbled, and cajoled, murmuring something about _'her turn,'_ but the Wolf was adamant; they just weren't safe out in the open. After a few minutes of heated whispering, the decision appeared to have been made: all three of them would be leaving immediately.

More efficiently and carefully than she would have anticipated, the Were soon had her extricated from his mate's painful grip and settled for the ride to see his Sire. He also had collected the stun gun, tsking at her for bringing such a weapon to take out a True Were (_it should have worked!)_ and then climbed into the cab. She still hadn't been able to get a good look at the not-Human and wondered again how the client could have mistaken such a Supe power for a mere blood-bag. Perhaps she'd soon find out, but as the sun rose, her wrists and ankles secured with the twisted rope the Were had improvised from what appeared to be the remnants of some clothing items, Amelia promptly fell into the sleep of the Undead. And just when it was beginning to get interesting.

* * *

As Niall waited for the arrival of his son Eric, he'd begun to assemble the elements of his plan to distract the Vampire head of the Tribunal from raining shit down on Eric's head. But if Eric didn't choose to cooperate, there wasn't much Niall could do to save him.

_Not that he was without resources. _

Calling in a favor from some Vamps who owed him, he'd set in motion a sequence of events that would lead to an explosive _National Enquirer_ tabloid cover revealing the 'evidence' he'd collected over the centuries. Said evidence, actually genuine in origin, was currently stashed in a vault at the IOR, the Instituto per le Opere di Religione in Rome, and would have to be retrieved and planted by Niall's most-trusted Were associates, two of whom were already on an Alitalia flight bound for the ancient city.

Meanwhile, he'd chosen the small town of Dragasani as the setting for the sensational 'revelation.' It was centrally located in Romania's wine-growing region and was both the recent site of a hugely successful eBay scam and home to hundreds of young, well-trained information-technology specialists, two not-unrelated facts.

He fully expected that within twenty-four hours after his 'real' Vampire mementos had been planted, the Internet would be flooded by the town's residents with articles on the discovery of amazingly realistic evidence proving the existence of Vampires among the Humans. His actions were in direct violation of the Prime Directive, but Eric's safety, if not life, was at stake; Niall had been around too long to not know what he valued most. The irony here was that one of the accusations against Eric concerned a violation of said Prime Directive.

_No point in dwelling on the miscellany of life. _

More importantly, the Rat Bastard Vamp Leostet would have no choice but to leave the country himself and wing it to Walachia to protect the identity of the Count and his minions from being made public. If not, Vlad Dracule would see to it that the IST's head was most severely punished, possibly over a period of several decades. Niall snickered, but quickly suppressed the sound. It was quite undignified for a Werewolf of his years to engage in such juvenile expressions of glee. Perhaps a chortle? Totally dignified. He let loose with several. Another snicker could soon be heard had anyone been within earshot.

Thirty minutes after sunrise, the shifter guard at Niall's front gate called in an alert that his son Eric had arrived with two individuals unknown to him, one of whom was a female trussed in the back of the pick-up. Niall allowed that all were expected, but wondered who the third individual was after signing off from the guard. He'd discover her identity shortly and therefore was content to wait. He trusted Eric to risk neither the safety of his Sire nor his own neck, so he wasn't worried. With his son by his side, he knew that two True Weres, regardless of age or seasoning, were nearly invincible. Only a God might be able to overwhelm them, and where would one find a God on a hot summer's day in suburban Atlanta? His own son would never turn against him, of that he was certain.

His blood quickened at the thought of seeing Eric; it always did, whether it had been a few days, a few years, or several decades. His son was a handsome Wolf, and bore a strong resemblance to his Were mother, Nemia, one of Niall's many favorite Supe spouses. He still missed that bitch when the moon was full and the winds blew down from the Appalachian hills in late fall.

The jangle of the front door opening signaled the arrival of his son, his son's companion, and the unknown prisoner. The elder Werewolf smelled the female Vampire immediately. He nearly blew his top at Eric's lack of judgment in bringing a Vamp into the Buckhead bunker. How in the name of the wolfslayer _Vidar_ could anyone expect him to pull off an elaborate scheme against the head of the Vamps to save Eric's ass when the enemy was already inside the gates? Niall swallowed hard several times before he was able to calm himself.

When he was finally able to tear his gaze away from the unconscious Vamp, an assassin he recognized from his regular perusal of Were investigative reports and photographic evidence on the other Supes' activities, his eyes rose to look into the baby blues of the most enchanting young Human he had ever encountered. Was this his son's mate? She smelled strongly of him, was wearing a thin cotton man's t-shirt that barely covered her bits, and yet… Oh fuck. She _was_ the True Human, but something was different about her.

"Eric, is this Sookie Stackhouse, the young woman whom you were charged with protecting from harm?" Niall asked calmly, or at least he thought so.

"Sire. Kind of you to offer us refuge. Yes, as you can tell…"

Niall cut him off; no, he sliced him off at the knees, not allowing him to breathe another word. "She has the stink of a Supe on her, and I'm not just referring to your mating scent. Didn't I tell you to keep your dick out of her? Yet, there's no reasonable explanation for the contamination; she can't be pregnant, can she? She doesn't smell fertile, but something is wrong." He paused, thinking he needed a few modifications to his plans to accommodate this unforeseen development.

"Eric, I'm going to retrieve a throwing blade from behind the curio chest, and once I have a sip, I'll know what has happened to her blood. We are in a fuckhole of major proportions if your cousin Vane's research results on synthetic antibodies cannot be documented before…"

Sookie Stackhouse had listened quietly for the first few minutes to his vitriol, but now she stopped Niall's outburst with a hand on his arm and a look of determination on her lovely face.

"Do not threaten Eric." At least even she had the grace to look surprised by the words issuing from her mouth.

"Are you challenging me?" A Human, contaminated or not, had never dared to speak to him thusly. They instinctively knew he wasn't an average man and usually gave him a wide berth if he appeared the least perturbed.

"Your son has saved me on several occasions. He deserves reward for his actions, not your condemnation."

Niall looked over at Eric in amusement. "Does your very adorable Human mate always use such a challenging tone when speaking to a Werewolf, son?" The amusement was to mask his genuine concern; something wasn't right since this little blondina wasn't cowering before him. He felt a growl deep in his chest, but suppressed it. He was too close to the shift to animal form that would happen later tonight; engaging in aggressive behaviors wouldn't be wise and could cause him to turn Wolf too early.

"Sire, I've chosen her…I didn't mean to do so…this is my choice…" Eric's words were registering with everyone in the room, including the blondina, who let out a small squeal of pleasure before speaking.

"Eric is my choice, too."

Niall, like most Supes, particularly the animal types, did not really believe in the concept of Love between a male and female. It was purely a Human construct. Experience had always proved the 'feelings' to be nothing more than Lust, masquerading as the supposedly deeper emotion. Humans especially seemed to lack the bullshit meter that allowed a sane, rational Supe to see past what felt like a clench in the heart, an ache beneath the breastbone, a stone caught in the throat-- all reactions commonly felt when one thought one's self to be in _love_.

However, staring at his son's face, he could tell he was in the clutches of some deep emotion; was the young Were's bullshit meter broken, or just temporarily damaged?

"Eric, not to put a damper on your desires, but you and this True Human have more than one order out for your pick-up. And, as I told you earlier, there is a contract out to capture you and bring you to trial for violating the Prime Directive to keep our existence hidden from the Humans. The contract has been issued by the International Supernatural Tribunal's head, the Vampire Leostet, my long-time adversary. I've initiated a plan to distract him, but you'll still be brought before the IST in his absence. I've no choice in this matter, and neither do you. Fail to appear, and you become the hunted, a Supe fugitive, and will attract the attention of every Supe bounty hunter in the country. A kill order could also possibly be issued if you defy the IST and do not appear before the Tribunal." Niall's voice had become darker, more serious. The little blondina was fixedly staring at him now.

"I know you." She paused. "And I don't like you."

Eric and Niall turned to her, mouths gaping. It had been a much deeper voice issuing what both Weres recognized as a challenge in the Supe lingo.

_But how did Sookie know the old Supe code words? _Eric wondered.

* * *

Sookie had been feeling odd since she and Eric had finally screwed. She should have felt elated by the sex they'd enjoyed together. It was the first she'd had since breaking-up with Sam Merlotte back in Shreveport, not counting the_ 'all-but screwing' _she'd been talked into with Will-the-Vampire; she didn't count that misbegotten effort as screwing, thank God.

Did she really feel irritated at Niall, Eric's Sire? She couldn't recall why she should be feeling so out-of-sorts. She knew she was falling in love with Eric and was hoping he felt the same. At least she was clear on that one emotion.

However, his father was a scary beast, err, man, and she wondered if Eric would eventually develop more traits that mimicked his parent. There already was a definite family resemblance. But how did she account for the near immediate enmity she felt for Niall? It wasn't rational, but it was there, just skating the surface of her conscious mind.

Would she someday grow to dislike his son, Eric, just as much?

Could she marry a Werewolf with that fear hanging over her head? Not that Eric had asked her just yet, but all the talk of 'mates' had to mean _something,_ didn't it?

_Who was she fooling_? She'd already decided on her answer whenever he got around to posing the question.

* * *

The scientist in the Vampire Empire's employ was a large, powerfully built man with a dark brush of coarse hair riding the top of his skull. In his Human existence, he had been an executioner. Anyone meeting him never doubted it: his expression was often surly; he was crude in his physical habits (dried blood under the fingernails being just the easiest example); and his meaty palms and strong fingers looked made to hold a long-handled curved blade.

After more than two hundred years honing his skills as a Vampire, he'd eventually turned to science and the study of blood, both his sustenance and his torment. After another fifty years spent indulging both his passion and his professional skills, he'd been able to lay claim to several important discoveries in his adopted field. It had been tricky to have the work accepted by and reviewed in the Human scientific journals, the only validation he craved, but so far he had been able to overcome all obstacles, even attending a few scientific conferences that held evening sessions and presenting the occasional professional paper.

The one area that continued to confound him was modern-day genetics. He'd been dreaming of experimenting on Humans since his early days as a newly turned Vamp; _'why not?'_, he reasoned, _the blood-bags are in rich profusion and almost seem to cry out for some judicious thinning_.

And now, he'd finally worked his way into the cadre of Vamp scientists with access to the files of True Human subjects, and so the culmination of his undead dream lay within his grasp. The one missing element had always been the perfect subject and laying hands on same. Finding such a Human had been an elusive goal and had tripped him up more times than he cared to count.

It was an unbelievable succession of events that had led him to the proverbial mother lode: a fertile young female who'd never been bred and was single-to-boot with a misplaced male relative.

He had only to ignore the IST's Prime Directive and simply take the True Human female, Ms. S. Stackhouse. _He gulped at the temerity of such an act but continued in his cold-blooded analysis._ With her as his source of superior breeding stock, he would be able to advance the field of genetic research by light years. He needed only to locate an additional source of True Human semen, and the medical profession, his newest calling, would be forever enriched. Mature Human females carried over 300,000 eggs, and yet they only used 300 to 400 during a lifetime. That reasonably left him approximately 299,500 options, or eggs, that would never be missed. He could harvest those unneeded eggs and have his pure pool of genetic material. He could so easily imagine this huge wealth of True Humans, all genetically pure, matured, and all capable of bearing children, eventually reclaiming the Human race from the contamination of the randy Supes.

_He shivered in excitement and awe at the audacity of his vision._

Human scientists, victims of the Prime Directive, never realized that their experimental results were always being compromised by the mixed Supe-Human blood of the research participants. It explained why drugs worked on some Humans and not others, and why so many warnings were required for the introduction of any new therapy other than the 'take two aspirin and call me in the morning' variety. Supes simply reacted differently to various drugs designed to mimic cures found in the natural world and Eastern medicine, and the traits were passed along in their blood to Human/Supe offspring.

So, Alcide the frustrated Vamp had taken the leap and defied the IST and its head, one of the scariest Vamps his world had ever seen. He simply didn't care any longer. Regardless of the consequences should he be discovered, he decided to have the True Human captured and brought to him. It had been a rather brilliant plan, and involved the heist of a young Werewolf's t-shirt, a certain Witch, and a Vamp assassin, all three of whom were clueless about the roles they would play in his elaborate scheme.

He'd gone _Rogue_, and it felt so damn good.

* * *

A/N: I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. If you find errors, I must claim them. Seriously, she is a dear, and a great writer. Check out her stories for a real treat.

While I have a serious addiction to many excellent SVM fan fiction, with some of my faves listed on my profile, I've also recently been converted to the dark side, Twi-FF. Here are some Twi fics I've been reading and totally adore:

www . fanfiction . net/s/5646916/1/ Three Graces & A Muse by FarDareisMai2

www . fanfiction . net/s/5475191/4/ Deep Dish by Starfish422

www . fanfiction . net/s/5390119/1/ The University of Edward Masen by SebastienRobichaud

www . fanfiction . net/s/4676940/1/ All I Ever Knew by Manyafandom

Finally, if you are interested in supporting the Haitian relief efforts by donating with other FF members, you will receive a FF-style thank-you, as organized by MsKathy. Here are the terms: Donate at least $5 to a charity of your choice by 11:59PM January 24, 2010, to **help Haiti**, and you will receive a compilation of varying length pieces (not necessarily lemony, not necessarily TwiFic) from 150 participating Twi authors. Forward **MsKathy** a copy of the receipt - be sure to delete your personal details - to be added to her list. She will email the story on 01/25. You have until 01/24 to make your donation and be added. Send that receipt for your donation to so she has both the donation amount and your email address.


	15. Ch 14: Tinkle, Tinkle, Little Belle

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. When you find errors, I must claim them. Seriously, she is a dear, and a great writer. Check out her stories for a real treat.

We are nearing the end of this story, so it is definitely time for some citrusy-goodness. You've been warned…

Spit the gum into your hand and stick it under your chair, please; this chapter is a really big bite.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

* * *

_It had been a rather brilliant plan, and involved the heist of a young Werewolf's tee-shirt, a certain Witch, and a beautiful Vamp assassin, all three of whom were clueless about the roles they would play in his elaborate scheme. _

_Alcide the Vamp had gone Rogue, and it felt so damn good._

* * *

**Sunday Morning in Decatur**

Tall, powerfully built, and dressed in neatly pressed khaki slacks and an open collar plum-colored polo, the presence of Vampire Alcide in the sleepy suburban neighborhood of Decatur was an anomaly. Absently running his hand through his thick brush of dark hair, he had been lurking outside the True Human's duplex for hours and was no longer feeling quite so 'damn good.' His brilliant plan had developed a major glitch.

_Where was she?_

He sheepishly acknowledged that for a Vampire, with a 'dead-span' of several hundreds of years to fill, he had no legitimate excuse for being so disappointed by recent developments. It was a bitter pill to swallow that neither he nor anyone else involved seemed able to locate or secure the True Human.

Theoretically, he knew he _could_ wait up to a decade for the reappearance of Sookie Stackhouse; his plan could still succeed given her current age. But unfortunately, he _was _an impatient Vampire, and beyond jaded by his daily bland diet of diluted blood from a bottle. Stackhouse was the lynchpin in his long-running undead scheme to resuscitate the calorie-laden primary Supe food source, True-Human-blood. He grimaced, recalling how he'd been forced to hide his completely normal hunger-based motivations for his plans from the other Vamps working in the ASCPPTH's research facilities.

However, such a major deception had proved to be no stretch for him. He had been gifted with a remarkably nimble and inventive brain; it had served him well in his pre-Vamp existence as Human executioner. Going Vamp hadn't diminished his skills, only improved them ten-fold. This little plot of his was a case in point.

The bleeding hearts who had developed the Prime Directive and its two corollaries were always prattling on about protecting the innocence of the blood bags. Unfortunately, millennia of unrestrained Supe copulation with the Humans had resulted in a painful object lesson in the Law of Unintended Consequences. Supes had failed to grasp how the effects of the '_don't ask; don't tell'_ practice of hiding their real selves from their bed partners had decimated the ranks of those Humans carrying the bouquet of his favorite meal.

His frustrated musings were interrupted by the sound of a sports car approaching from several blocks away. He listened for a few moments, but knowing _la_ Stackhouse did not own such a vehicle, he continued his aimless pacing and promptly forgot about it.

Instead, Alcide recalled how implementing a forced selective breeding program of the remaining pure blood Humans had developed into his personal undead mission. Some might even call it an (_im)moral_ imperative, considering how few of said Humans remained. And only he had the smarts and the initiative to rectify this gross lack of Supernatural foresight.

And so he had worked diligently to bring about his desired results. He'd trusted only two other Vampire scientists at ASCPPTH, sharing occasional bits and pieces of his scheme until he was certain of their loyalty. Even so, both had only reluctantly agreed with his impassioned logic about the first step being the illegal retrieval of the egg follicles of the latest True Human find, the still free-roaming Sookie Stackhouse.

His Vamp co-conspirators' had compiled several pages of terms and conditions before they would agree to help him with the research phase of his experiment. The fact that he'd had to sign their document in his own blood still made him cranky.

Once begun, they had been most interested in discerning the female's genetic suitability for becoming the unwitting donor. Both Vamps had dived with undisguised relish into the physical data gathered on his True Human, plotting and cataloguing all manner of mundane and useless information.

Since Alcide thought of her only as the temporary repository of his future True Human food source, her suitability was of no consequence to him. In fact, _the dumber, the better_, when it came to his protein.

So, while they'd been genuinely worrying about responsibly repopulating the rapidly dwindling True Human pool with superior genetic material, he'd been focused on the beauty of the experiment.

Consequently, having finally slaked their data manipulation fetishes and thinking he was home free with the two Vamps, he'd been plenty irritated when they'd switched gears and begun gathering SAT scores, cataloging career achievements, collecting writing samples, checking for Myers-Briggs results, etc.

_Sweet Lucifer,_ _maybe he could hack into the local library database to learn which books she'd checked out? _He'd offered the comment in jest, but they hadn't picked-up on his sarcasm, instead adding a tick item to their exhaustive meeting summary notes.

However, he cautiously reminded himself, his fellow Vamps had their human roots in more traditional scientific endeavors, so he'd held his temper in check and agreed to everything they requested. Wearing them down had taken far too many months of tedious meetings, but in the end, both Gregor Johann and Ivan Petrovich had eventually signed-on to join his little cabal. It had been one of the happier moments in his Vamp existence.

So far, though, it was just the three of them, which was why he found himself once again doing his own investigative work outside the True Human's rental house, the windows of which were dark and uninviting. _Didn't she ever come home? Skank!_

He might be an impatient individual, but Alcide wasn't the sort to be easily diverted from his mission. So, while he couldn't gain entrance to her rented duplex without an invitation, after yet another deadly dull night of no results, he'd decided on a new scheme. He would intercept her as she returned home in the early morning hours just as the sun rose. He hoped to catch her unawares after both his Rogue Vamp colleagues and the slutty female Vampire assassin Amelia had failed to capture Miz Stackhouse. Surely the female would eventually return home for a fresh change of clothes and a bath!

He chortled at his own genius. His mile-long, inch-deep knowledge base had finally come in handy for the leg work elements of his operation. He'd devised a few unique means of coping with the pull of the sun forcing him into the ground during the day, including specially-tinted windows on his Hummer, application of 315 SPF sunscreen (his own formula), and being safe at home in his garage-coffin no later than nine in the morning so he didn't fall asleep at the wheel. (He wasn't one of those fortunate Vamps who could fly anywhere he needed to go. _Just his luck_.)

Stylishly dressed and nails free of dried blood for a change, Alcide was killing time as he amused himself by slipping in and out of the narrow spaces between the Fetterbushes. He'd just stepped back into the safety of the dark hedge conveniently separating her house from her neighbors when a vintage, beautifully restored dark red Ford Cobra with racing stripes pulled up in front of the True Human's house and parked. The driver remained inside the car for several minutes, country-music station blasting Brooks & Dunn's former hit 'Neon Moon.' Intrigued, Alcide quietly waited in the shadows to discover just who was visiting his little future-egg-donor-slash-True Human target.

When the car door swung open, radio silenced, it was to first reveal the long legs of a divine creature who casually set low-heeled, well-worn cowboy boots on the lush lawn before exiting the Cobra's frame. Swaying slightly as if still 'hearing' the country hit, the Human stared fixedly across the dew-laden grass at the front of the darkened duplex. Alcide gulped, his fangs elongating as an unusual scent drifted across the Kentucky blue-grass and assaulted his careful control; he could not recall the last time he'd been so attracted to another being.

This one had shoulder-length curling, disheveled sandy locks, a tight well-rounded ass tucked into fitted sand-washed blue jeans, and bulging muscles that sparkled in the sunlight. Smelling a combination of coconut and olive butter scents, Alcide's eyes swept carefully over the creature's well-defined, tanned arms visible against the sleeveless blue-jean shirt. The body was that of a professional swimmer; the now motionless stance endemic to one of the perpetually pouting. Alcide was captivated. If the Human would just turn around so the Vamp could see if the features matched the rest of the enticing package, or so he could at least get a glimpse of the package…

At that moment, the specimen did just that, the blond's silent cell phone clearly causing him some grief. The beauty of the moment was definitely enhanced by a loud grunt as he chose to both twist his upper body and pitch his instrument as far as possible in an unexpectedly graceful move. It was that delectable sound which nearly resulted in Alcide losing control and bolting from his hiding place. With effort, he restrained the impulse. Waiting a full twenty seconds, he emerged casually from the hedge and walked to the edge of the shaded area afforded by the large Maple at the end of the drive.

Clearing his throat, he asked a question to which he'd already guessed the answer, "Are you Sookie's brother, Jason Stackhouse?"

The photos in the database Alcide had built didn't do this man any favors. It was a small miracle, or perhaps Fate himself, that Alcide had recognized him.

The beautiful stranger, luminous blue eyes still frustrated, looked straight into the bear-like visage of the Vampire and nodded. "Yessir. Any idea how I can find her? Been nearly a year since we were in touch; I've been out working on a rig in the Gulf an' missing my baby sister. You a friend of chers?"

Alcide gave a deep sigh of contentment. What an enchanting accent; it was the perfect complement to the boy's delectable scent. For a blood bag, Jason was damn desirable.

When Alcide unexpectedly found himself answering truthfully by shaking his head, the agitated male launched into a detailed account of his fruitless efforts to make contact with _'the Sook'_ via cell phone. It was more information than Alcide really needed. But he was too mesmerized to interrupt the torrent of emotion issuing from the well-proportioned figure swaying slightly in his heeled boots just a few feet in front of him, his messy blond curls gleaming in the sunlight.

How was Alcide to lure him into the shade? Raking eyes over him with an appreciation he hadn't felt in centuries, he knew he had to touch him, now!

But how best to proceed? Perhaps he'd try a little glamour first. Boy didn't look like any genius, but who cared? Clearing his throat of what felt like a stone lodged there, he offered in a seductive tone, "I've something very interesting to show you, Jason. Could you come a little closer?"

"Sure thing." And the mouth-watering Human stepped gingerly over the wet grass to stop just inside the shade that sheltered Alcide, who promptly glamoured Jason, catching him as his knees buckled and his eyes closed. Deliberating for all of three seconds, Alcide leaned in to plant several careful kisses on his soft, yielding lips before heading back with his prize to his Hummer. He carefully deposited the unconscious male in the front seat, checking that Jason's seatbelt was securely fastened before slamming the door and heading to the other side of his tank.

As he slid into the driver's seat, Alcide decided he'd keep Jason in his garage-coffin with him during the day. And then, they could get to know one another much better after Alcide awoke for his usual evening activities. _Much better. _

Alcide had forgotten all about the urgency of finding Sookie Stackhouse now that he had her brother, who in his mind was the real gift, pure blood or not.

* * *

**Casa Niall's Suburban Buckhead Bunker**

If anyone ever asked her for a definition of the term 'waking nightmare,' Sookie was prepared to give her questioner a detailed account of the last few minutes of her conversation with Eric's Sire. Although much of the last few days would also qualify.

She truly felt as if her head might be exploding from all the bad news about Eric and the unwelcome I.S.T. interest in him. And to top it all off, she been without her cell phone for what felt like weeks after leaving it in Eric's Jeep. No phone therapy, no BrickBreaker, no candid photos for going on days now. And just how was she expected to get her hands on a replacement, trapped as she was in this den of Wolves?

The silence in the room brought her back to the grim realities of Eric's situation. Perhaps now would be a good time to pay attention to Niall and forget about her cell phone and other daily grind-type tasks such as returning to Belk's Department Store and salvaging her sales career tomorrow.

She glanced up quickly to find Eric and Niall both staring at her in consternation. They couldn't be reading her thoughts, could they? A Werewolf's superior sense of smell was merely the basis for an interpretation of clues she threw off, not an actual intrusion into her private thoughts. Or so she hoped, realizing she was counting on Eric to have told her the truth several days ago.

"Sookie, do you truly intend to deny my Sire Niall's request to take a small sample of your blood?" Eric's question was a cautious one after Niall's earlier plan to extract _'a sip'_ of her True-Human blood had unexpectedly sent their introductory conversation into a downward spiral.

"Why is he asking to drain more blood from me?" she whined. _Wasn't Eric's so-called all-powerful Sire proving himself to be just another bloodthirsty Werewolf demanding to taste her?_

Privately, Sookie was disgusted anew by the Wolves' never-ending requests for '_tastes._' Subtle warning though Eric's cautiously phrased question to her might have been, she wasn't ready to just roll over and play dead for her mate.

"Eric," she begged, "can't you just tell him all about me? Spare me the whole knife-against-my-skin-anticipation agony. After all, you tasted my blood back in the forest, or have you forgotten it, baby?"

A hiss from Eric's papa caused Sookie's head to snap around to face him, her body aligning to ward off…what, exactly? Niall looked properly stunned by her reaction, visibly jerking his body in an effort to maintain his original position. He growled, and Eric gave her a surprised look that Sookie couldn't interpret.

Well, yeah, that growl _was _a menacing sound; what was Niall plotting? Was he actually trying to threaten her with a shift-into-Werewolf form incident? After what she'd seen, should she find it bizarre that the prospect didn't seem so terrifying any longer? And didn't Werewolves require the darkness and the full Moon to come out and play? Although truth-be-told, Hollywood seemed to have gotten so much wrong over the years.

"Child, Sookie, I have no intention of harming you." The senior Wolf-in-charge's voice had dropped in timber and increased in gruffness. She still didn't fully trust him or his motives.

"Your scent tells me what I need to know about you and Eric. My son knows your feelings for him as well, but there is something unusual about your reactions." He paused and considered her expression carefully. "I promise the knife will only be a little sting. Marring your flesh would be a crime," he finished gallantly.

Eric was looking at her, his intent unmistakable. He expected her to just give in to their demands. Didn't he know anything about her?

But when she opened her mouth to protest, still staring into Eric's electric blue eyes, she inexplicably found herself backing down from her earlier refusal. "Niall, your son took a slurp earlier, so I guess it is okay. You can unwrap the leaf binding; you won't need to make another cut with that knife. I won't have healed so quickly." She offered up a small apologetic smile to let them know she wouldn't continue to object to their primitive testing procedure.

Eric moved gracefully to her side and loosened the leaf he had wrapped around her wrist last night. The leaf should have dried and fallen off from her wrist by now, but it must have been the beneficiary of Elven magic: it was still fresh, supple, and a dark green shade.

However, it was safe to speculate that all three of them were equally astonished as the leaf dropped to the carpeted surface revealing her wrist to be free of any signs of the earlier cut made by Eric.

Niall recovered first. "I knew I did not smell a wound; doesn't this confirm that she is no longer a True Human?" He seemed to be asking the question of the room, but his eyes were fastened upon those of his son.

"I've done nothing, Sire…" Eric began, but was stopped by Niall's raised hand.

"You've done everything, I'd say." Niall responded throatily. "And then some."

Eric dropped to one knee in front of his agitated Papa, head bent in a submissive gesture. Hadn't she read something about submissive wolves urinating in the presence of dominants? Or was that a female dog trait? Shizz, her lack of sleep must have so scrambled her brains that she could no longer recall the exact details from _The Hidden Life of Dogs_, a gift from Sam Merlotte last Christmas. She'd loved that book, never dreaming it would come in handy some day, if she could only recall the specifics.

For the nth time, she debated the reasons why she could recite word-for-word lengthy passages from several popular novels recently read, but couldn't pull up this sort of useful information when she needed it? Frustrated as usual by the missing information, she suppressed a growl of her own before continuing.

"Stop with the display, Eric." She huffed out her irritation with the Wolf who thought of her as his mate, at least sometimes, or so she hoped.

His head twisted in her direction, searching her face for signs of…well, her feelings. Or perhaps he was just aligning his sensitive nose to better read her scent.

"Hon, next you'll be licking over his lips." She couldn't prevent a small shudder at the unwelcome visual that provoked. "Just cut it out, okay?"

Sookie paused, attempting to regroup her thoughts. "Niall, we've sought your _protection_." _Why was she being so formal today? _"If you offer it freely, we accept. If not, I will take your son and leave. And you can forget about tasting my blood if we leave." She paused, adding graciously, "However, you may keep the Vampire assassin, if you wish. She is quite beautiful."

Niall sported the strangest expression on his face; she didn't know what had prompted it. He seemed to be considering her offer before replying.

"By tasting your blood, Sookie, I could confirm that you have been altered. If you are no longer True Human, we have a different set of problems. We must know the challenge if we are to find the correct solution." However, it was his next sentence that convinced Sookie he was being both truthful and sincere.

"I believe you and I share a mutual goal: keeping my son safe from any retribution being visited upon him by our International Supernatural Tribunal. Am I correct?"

While they both awaited a response, Sookie thought back to Pam's comment about how nasty this Tribunal organization was and her immediate resolve to avoid doing anything that might warranty their scrutiny. It frightened her that this shadowy group was now preparing to pass judgment on Eric. She could foresee that he might not make it out of such an investigation unharmed, based on his earlier comments in the pick-up about punishments.

Sookie made a snap decision: it was in favor of her Wolf. Mate or not, he belonged to her.

"Wolf-boy, can we go to your room, like, now? I need to think." As Sookie saw the beginnings of a protest form on Eric's face, she simply held out her hand, and randomly picking a doorway, moved to exit Niall's cavernous entrance hall.

Walking slowly backwards, she watched Eric struggle between his duty to his Papa and Pack Leader, and his desire for his mate. She decided to make it easier for him. "Niall, I'm sorry for flip-flopping earlier. You and I are on the same page; we both want to protect Eric, so you can have your taste-test. But not now, okay? Right now, I want a bath, clean clothes and some downtime." She waited a moment. "Coming, Eric?"

An angry snort issued from Niall, but Sookie couldn't-care-less; she only had eyes for Eric. Would he join her, or would he side with his Papa? She was hoping he'd choose her. If he didn't, maybe they didn't really have a future together.

And that was how Sookie both got her answer and found herself hand-in-hand with Eric, him rushing the two of them down a darkened hallway to what he claimed to be his room in this cool, rather lifeless suburban Buckhead mansion.

In retrospect, Sookie might have noticed she spent an inordinate amount of time scuttling down hallways and finding herself closeted in rooms with Eric prior to becoming intimate with him. After or during which, crazy things often happened to the two of them. But who was she to complain when the rewards were so obvious and impossibly large? Once again, she kept her mouth shut.

Even so, she barely had time to take in her surroundings before he flung open a door to a rather dusty bedroom dominated by a California King. Using just one hand to close and lock the door, the eager Wolf used his other to hold Sookie close, licking up the side of her neck and burying his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply and moaning in an unquestionable display of unbridled hedonistic anticipation. All thoughts of the deferred '_Sookie taste-test'_ seemed to be forgotten for the moment.

"I like the idea of a bath." Eric murmured in her ear. "How about I carry you? We can lose your clothes in the bathroom. I could bite them off, you know. It's just an old tee-shirt."

Grinning now, she acknowledged that she really loved it when Eric went all primal on her. Yum.

"Wolf-boy, there's no waiting in this line, so you're first. But truth? You look like you should be turning purple _all over_ from the pressure caused by these borrowed shorts of the Elf's. Does your…ummm, _butt_ hurt?"

Eric just gave her a smug grin in acknowledgement and ground his hips into hers.

After that, it was all Sookie could do to concentrate sufficiently to remove his damnably tight shorts. She was ready to rip them off his body in her eagerness but was holding back, fearful an unintended injury might temporarily incapacitate the Wolf's abilities.

"I cannot believe we got this zipper up earlier, hon. What did you use, supernatural Were strength?"

"There was a lot more room in there earlier, if you'll recall." He was moaning in her ear again, but whether it was lust or something else, she was too busy to notice.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she was finally able to work her fingers under the waistband. How had the man been able to draw a breath? Partially because Eric _was_ now holding his breath, and partially because she was so close to succeeding, Sookie nearly missed Eric's softly-spoken question.

Stopping briefly, she replayed what she'd heard but hadn't processed. "Sookie, why were you going to deny my Sire a taste of your blood?" At that moment, the zipper finally gave up the ghost, popped, and released with a loud sizzling sound. At least she hoped that was sound of the zipper; could also have been her libido doing the Hallelujah chorus.

Not surprisingly, taking pressing matters into hand, it was several minutes before either of them was interested in hearing an answer.

Needing air, and lots of it, Sookie stepped back and adjusted the tee-shirt she was wearing, which had ridden up over her hips during this latest bout of kissing and shorts demolition. She cleared her throat while attempting to clear her head. "Eric, what did you taste when you told me '_But that's impossible'_ back in the Elves' Heim?" Always much safer to answer one question with another one.

"If I tell you, you cannot share it with anyone. It may result in my punishment…" Eric's words trailed off as he saw the expression in her eyes. She felt a strong emotion grip her and recognized it as a flare of anger.

"No one may harm you, Wolf. But answer my question, and I will return the favor." _Again with the formality? _So not her usual style.

Suppressing a giggle, she wondered if she was channeling Linda Blair. No way could she possibly be _possessed_, cavorting in the Supernatural world though she might be.

Unaware of Sookie's drifting attention, Eric chose that moment to answer her. "I told Niall your blood had changed when he…contacted me on the drive over here. What I did not tell him, as I did not want to risk other members of our pack overhearing, is something unprecedented that doesn't even suggest contamination as we Weres understand it. In fact, I cannot imagine how it could have happened."

Impatient now and holding back a fresh surge of irritation, she blurted, "What exactly changed?"

"You still taste of True Human. But now, you also taste of…well, _me_?" His voice rose at the end, making the statement more of a question. _Whoa, why ask her_? She was just a Human who hadn't even believed in the Supernatural world's existence until a few days ago. At least, she always claimed never to believe the tales of _Loup Garou_, magical _Bouki _and _Malice_, and the banshee _melusine_, to name just a few Granmere had shared with her over the years. Now Sookie seemed to be mated to her very own Loup Garou. It was an unlikely conclusion to the weekend's events, and so guaranteed to lead to some type of disaster, she tried not to think about it too often. Yeah, right.

However, none of that seemed relevant as she settled on what mattered most: the miraculous fact that they were alone together in a room with a bed during daylight hours. A _safe _room, at that! In her book, that was about as _thrill_ as it got when one had a Werewolf for a boyfriend.

Sookie pulled Wolf-boy back into her embrace. Kissing him deeply, she decidedly wiped from her thoughts the not-so-compelling mystery of how she came to taste like him and the forthcoming near-certain melt-down of his Papa once he discerned the reasons for it.

Instead, she intended to make the best of what might be a very short reprieve from the freaking whirlwind of non-stop adventures since she'd met him. Eric, initially introduced as mild-mannered hair salon owner Irick, had morphed into her Supe Hero Eric. He was both strong and resolute in his protection of her in spite of now being threatened with some sort of unnamed, but undoubtedly horrific disciplinary action. Didn't they deserve an interlude of some real fun in a soft, comfy bed?

Besides, she was so fed-up with the entire pure-blood-versus-contaminated-blood discussion. Why were these Supernatural critters always so obsessed with the subject?

Regardless, she was very ready to enjoy this male beast now rhythmically moving his body against her, his soft groans mingling with the occasional whimper. He was so endearing. And sexy.

It just wasn't fair to compare Eric against her old boyfriend Sam who had never been through the shit she and Eric had been dealt over the last few days. Guys needed recovery time, even she knew that.

Smiling, she stopped pretending, and pushing back gently from his warmth, knelt down and unabashedly ripped apart those damnably tight jean shorts still trapped around his lower thighs. As Sookie could see and feel, the happily crooning Wolf was more than ready to satisfy her every romance-novel-inspired fantasy. The Beast does have his place in this Beauty's world. Particularly if she is small, curvy, blonde, and a Southern belle.

* * *

**Casa Niall, a.k.a. Werewolf HQ**

After Sookie had lured Eric away from their conversation for what Niall was certain would turn into more unauthorized mating activities, Niall was left standing alone in his now-deserted vestibule. Reviewing the recent unfolding of Sookie-related events, he was alternating between seething and snorting at the randomness of it all. Try as he might, he simply couldn't point to any one decision he'd made which was responsible for Eric falling for Sookie Stackhouse, the True Human under Niall's protection.

Not one. It was a puzzle.

Equally mystifying were the reactions of his son's new companion when meeting him over the last half-hour. She was a firecracker; imagine standing up to a senior Werewolf such as himself! He knew galleons worth of Supes who'd hastily do whatever he said without daring to ask any questions, but the fearless True Human hadn't faltered in her defiance. Ms. Stackhouse appeared to be a superior sort of female, he noted with some pride, and she'd fallen hard for his son.

Not that Niall was prepared to share his complimentary analysis of her just yet.

The rumble of a Jeep engine outside the security gates broke into the Pack Leader's thoughts, alerting him that the Demoness Guardian had finally arrived; he'd summoned her so damn long ago he'd nearly forgotten she wasn't nearby as she should have been.

Didn't she know his son was subject to an I.S.T. issued pick-up order? He waited, impatient to hear her report and lame excuses. Was her agreement to a term of two hundred years binding to Eric's service, offered for the satisfaction of her own Demon Sire's debt, worth so little in these modern times?

Niall thought of summoning up her Seventh Circle of Hell Sire and seeking an explanation for the seemingly lax attitudes of the daughter in fulfilling her Guardian duties, but dismissed the idea: the pressing timeline for securing his own son's safety was his first priority.

The Demoness Meliel's entrance was not all that was feminine and sweet; instead, several strong blasts of heated air beat against the heavy mahogany entry doors to his house, increasing in tempo until the pressure finally popped the locks and sent the panels crashing against the walls. She was standing framed against the sunnier exterior, her face lost in shadow, hands on hips. _Better than a trumpet_, he thought in admiration of her entrance while acknowledging her arrival with a small nod. Now, just what was her human-type alias this time? _Oh, right_. _Pam._

"Meliel, or Pam if you prefer, I see you've abandoned your post by my son's side? Is this how you repay your Sire's debt to me? Does he know of your disdain for following his orders?" Niall's sneer was evident in every word as he waited for her apologies and pleading to begin. Her orange and lavender eyes were flashing neon in the subdued light, indicating her emotional turmoil at the accusations as she stepped further into the house's vestibule where he waited.

He waited for the verbal blast from her that did not come.

The dust motes swirled in the air as the wind slowly settled. Still, her entire demeanor was lightning in a bottle—one touch to that skein of civility that remained, and he suspected she would flash hard; he restrained his displeasure at her silence, knowing he'd be the only animal singed in the exchange. Plus, he'd never cared for loud, booming noises accompanied by blasts of light—they unsettled his Wolf nerves something fierce.

He guessed she knew this weakness about him, too; knew it to be true, in fact, of all Werewolves. Their Achilles heel—they reacted like their lower-form cousins, the dogs, to the sounds of a window-rattling, roof-shifting thunderstorm. And how typical of the Supe world that his own son, Eric, should be subject to the manifestations of the Storm God Ishkur in his third form: the irony of it was certainly not lost on this Wolf.

Slowly now, she began speaking. "Niall, Wolf-to-whom-my-family-is-indebted, I was engaged in dissuading several _very hungry Others_ early this morning from enjoying a little Werewolf tartare with a chaser of True Human." She paused to gauge his reaction, and satisfied by his sharp intake of air, continued in a more conciliatory tone.

"So, now that we have _that_ settled, recall that I am as fond of Eric as you are, if not more so." She had never hesitated to reprimand him in spite of their age differences, veiled though this riposte might be. He thought again that her unfortunate birth circumstances and batting choices prevented what might have been an interesting pairing.

"Pam, this small assignment I've given my son has gone South in a way I would have deemed impossible if I didn't have direct confirmation of the facts. First, he claims to be in love with a True Human he may have contaminated, although I don't understand how it could have happened so quickly. Then I discover he's the target of that Rat Bastard Leostet's far-reaching investigations, thinly disguised as I.S.T. orders, just to settle an old score with me. I also scented the Storm God had made an appearance over at the jazz club where Eric had planned to perform, again in defiance of my orders to him... Except for the fact that it hurts him so much, I'd almost say he deserved that bit of Ishkur punishment for disobeying me…."

Here Pam had the audacity to cut him off. "Niall, he is a fully grown, mature Wolf who has selected a mate. Don't you have some new money-laundering schemes to launch? Something else equally underhanded and illegal? Please, just leave Eric to enjoy his choice; I suspect Sookie will make him very happy."

The blood roaring through his ears was the usual accompaniment to the violent reaction words such as hers evoked. "He's to **mate** with another True Were female of my choosing and produce more hounds for my line; I won't have…"

She scoffed at him. Scoffed! "Look at your own actions, Niall. Your damnably black Were heart has led you into so many beds, you've lost the ability to recognize interspecies true love when you see it. After you lost Eric's mother Nemia, you were never the same. Don't set up Eric to become nothing more than a pawn in the Were breeding games of your Kind." She'd finished her plea, for that's what it was, in a gentle voice, and now she stopped, her stare daring him to dispute what they both knew to be the truth.

He was silent for several moments before replying, "Well, she won't last long; if Eric wants to have his heart broken, I suppose there is no reason not to allow him sixty years or so of trying to prepare for the pain of her eventual departure from our earthly existence. Then perhaps we can renew the search for a long-lived Were female for him."

Pam now looked at Niall closely, too many thoughts flitting across her half-Demon, half-Elf features for him to follow. His overly-sensitive scent receptors didn't react well to the slightly rotten-egg smell of Demon, so he had refrained from trying to read her emotions earlier. Even now, he waited, letting her take her time to formulate her response.

"I have an odd feeling, Master Wolf, that Sookie Stackhouse may not be exactly what you believe her to be." Pam's grin was pure evil; it was easy enough to see her father's genes in her this morning.

"Yes, I know, Eric has somehow contaminated her…"

Pam again interrupted. "Perhaps it wasn't Eric, exactly, who contaminated her?"

"Who, then?"

"I'll leave it to Eric to educate you about his True Human_ female_. However, I doubt her to be as short-lived as you expect, Niall."

Pausing, Pam cocked her head towards the doorway through which the mismatched pair had departed and again broke out the evil grin. "I'm willing to wait for Eric and Sookie to return to us after they finish up their mating activities in his bedroom. Meanwhile why not tell me about your plans to save your son? There are several Weres gathering out in the Courtyard, as you know. Shall we invite them in so all may know the basic outlines of the scheme? Save us repeating it for everyone."

He'd been so involved in the conversation, he'd missed the faint shuffling sounds of his paws and claws compatriots on the compacted dirt in the Courtyard. Calling to the Pack members now, Niall welcomed his trusted Betas and two visiting Alphas from other Packs to his house, suggesting the group move further into the great room located in the center of the house to take some refreshment. The Wolves could relax and review strategy for any gaping holes that would require plugging.

Demon or not, Pam seemed to understand him. She took his arm and patting it gently, escorted him down the hall, speaking soothing words of encouragement only Niall could hear. Together, they would definitely save his twenty-seventh son.

In a few minutes, it would be time to contact the Weres who should have arrived in Rome by now and collected the Vamp artifacts. They would need his battle souvenirs to begin the spectacular reveal Niall had planned to distract the attention of the I.S.T. Chief Rat Bastard Leostet. Removing the French Vamp would allow his good and reasonable _friend _Leif to see to the pardon and release of Niall's son Eric.

* * *

**A Peek inside the I.S.T.**

Several decades shy of 1,000 years of age and Sheriff of his own Area 4, Leif was not the sort of Vampire to become easily distracted. He was the most seasoned member of the International Supernatural Tribunal, second-Vamp-in-command, and by most accounts, he was recognized and respected as a reasonable sort of fellow. He'd been irritated countless times over the last few hundred years by the antics of the Tribunal's head, one seventeenth-century Frenchman. The Vampire Leostet was another blond, an irrepressible wild-child, a Libertine even by Vampire-standards, of which there really were none if you thought about it.

Leif felt he was the better-looking specimen, coming as he did from the Viking era, six feet plus of hard-muscled, battle-trained masculinity, bearded and with plaited dark blond locks. He thought happily of the hundreds of skirmishes fought and won, far more in truth than the Tribunal's head could ever fathom. But Leif had been careful to mask his own wilder tastes and proclivities, taking instruction in curbing unruly tendencies over the last six hundred years from his former lover and yearned-for partner, the Vampire Queen S, a lovely Spanish maiden from the 1300's. Unfortunately, her charms and teachings were now lost to him forever by marriage to another. _A fucking CPA, at that!_, he winced.

As he reflected anew on his loss, a gut-wrenching hurt he had never shared with either the Queen or her newly-turned spouse who looked remarkably like Leif, he dimly recalled that the Were Niall was waiting for a response to his e-mail message from this morning.

The shocking content of that e-mail was the reason Leif found himself staring blankly at the blinking screen, unable to move past the customary salutation line between friends. What did Niall expect of him? Yes, Niall did in fact save him over 900 years ago when he was still a very green Vamp. He silently chuckled at the latest appropriation of the word _'green'_ by today's environmentally-minded Humans; what next? Different shades of '_red_' to designate and define the varying levels of superiority among the inhabitants of the Supe world? It was appropriate—everyone he knew was so damned fixated on blood. The substance seemed to frame every relationship and color everyone's thoughts and words. _So tiresome, really._

Now Niall was asking him for a substantial, outrageous favor for one of his Were sons, a dark-haired rather volatile young Wolf by the name of Eric. Seemed Eric had become involved with a rare True Human and there might have been some contamination. Leif unconsciously licked his lips; the very old memory of the fresh, unmarred bouquet of True Human blood pouring into his mouth, soaking his parched throat tissues and lining his aching gut caused an involuntary twitch to one of his sadly neglected extremities. Perhaps a little self-relief _was_ in order?

But Leif felt an uncomfortable twinge at his self-indulgence in daydreaming about his relentless bloodlust just then (after nearly a thousand years, _couldn't he just put a sock in it_?); he therefore refrained from rubbing one out. What exactly was his old _friend_ Niall requesting from him? What had made him so desperate he was calling in a long-held favor from a Vamp? Interspecies favors were worth much in the World of the Supes and not lightly squandered.

Well, if the True Human female of breeding age was in love with the True Were son, and vice versa, perhaps Leif _could_ find some legal precedent in Supe law for leniency. It would not be to Leif's advantage to head an I.S.T. review of Prime Directive violation accusations in the wild Frenchman's absence, only to be forced into ordering an execution for some other crime committed by Eric the Were, warranted or not. He had no desire to risk angering his one long-term Were _friend_ and ally in Niall.

He opened a second window on the screen to again peruse the documents each I.S.T. member had received from the I.S.T. head yesterday, himself now embroiled in some nonsense over in Romania concerning the outing of Vampires. Didn't the younger Vamp Leostet understand the value of the free publicity? Leif could hit any bar in Memphis, whether Human or Supe, and just by flashing his fangs, attract both males and females immediately ready to strip down and bare their throats or more satisfying veins for his amusement.

He smiled greedily. The recent craze over all things Vampire in the media, especially the young Human pretty boy actors hired to represent his Kind, had made his undead life once again a pleasurable experience. No more hiding in the shadows to find the inebriated and oblivious spilling from 2 AM bar closings, or drinking from rats (a single gulp, more like an appetizer), or visiting the zoos late at night to play with the tigers…

He did rather miss the musky scents of the four-legged, but before his thoughts could travel further in that direction, he was diverted by the ding indicating another new e-mail message. He checked his watch—almost ten in the morning, nearly time for him to retire, and he still hadn't drafted a reply to Niall's inquiry. He would be compelled to bed down for his day-sleep in a few minutes; being an older Vamp, he could get by on much less sleep than the newborns, but it was still a maddening necessity within any twenty-four hour period. He saw the e-mail was from that Rat Bastard Leostet and deleted it without bothering to read it. _Fucker._

Before he shut-down the computer, he thought quickly and hammered out a reassuring message to Niall. He'd already resolved to make certain that his friend's son Eric would escape both physically unharmed and mentally intact from the I.S.T. hearing. He'd contact the other members, set up the roundtable session for tomorrow through one of the tech Shifter-gurus always on call, and have the whole thing wrapped up in less than twenty-four hours.

Being Leif, he simply didn't fear Leostet's likely rage, but he did fear the loss of Niall's friendship. For all he knew, Leostet could be staked tomorrow, but Niall seemed to go on, well, forever. '_Never piss off a Were'_ had been a good motto. Over the centuries, he'd never wavered from that piece of advice Niall had offered to him more than 900 years ago. At the time, Niall had just saved his Viking hide by beating down the flames meant to incinerate Leif and releasing his wrists and ankles from several iron chains. Leif had taken the Were's advice to heart and had followed it to the letter.

He wasn't even the least bit disturbed by what he strongly suspected: wily Niall would be found laughing at the bottom of the pile should the disappearance of the Vampire Leonardo ever be solved. He chuckled again, suddenly pleased at the thought of just how truly displeased the French Vampire Leostet would be when he learned that the much older Leif had made it possible for Eric and his Sire to escape unscathed. But then his thoughts returned to Fifi, and he decided he might pay another visit to the zoo later in the week to say hello and garner a little comfort after this minor storm had dissipated.

He was just so lonely.

_**Beauty and her Beast **_(continued)

_The deep, resonant voice of the Beast was cultured, a soothing instrument to calm the nerves of the fair-haired Beauty…_

"Sookie, if the I.S.T. doesn't release me and dismiss the charges of contamination and violation of the Prime Directive, you may not see me again." Eric had no trouble parading around _au naturel_ after Sookie had destroyed yet another pair of his shorts. But to share his deepest fears with her? That was the sort of thing he had to work hard to overcome his natural reticence around Humans before he could do.

The strong possibility of never seeing her again was a definite mood-dampener, so much so that he had unexpectedly decidedly pushed Sookie away, even as he watched confusion and surprise bloom across her face. Privately, he'd suddenly felt so bleak about his chances he couldn't even bring himself to want to hold her. He stared with regret at the king-sized bed in his seldom-used bedroom; it looked so empty without the two of them in it, snuggled together beneath the blood-red satin spread. But he couldn't drag her down with him; his role was to reassure her while trying to keep her safe.

_Beast never left the dark corners of the great Hall; he would not allow Beauty to see him at first, clearly embarrassed by his rough appearance and shaggy mane._

Unwillingly, Eric straightened and then walked away from his eager mate, moving to stand in the far corner of the room in front of a large picture window covered by heavy drapes. He was troubled by the certain knowledge he was leaving her alone and unguarded in his world if the retribution for Vampire Leonardo's death he feared most was meted out to him. The Supes would take her, and most if not all would mistreat her as they sought to use her for their own benefit. Did he dare to seek Niall's word that he would protect her in Eric's absence? Even if his absence stretched into forever?

_The feast left for her every day was worthy of a Princess, but she was afraid at first to venture too far from her room. Finally, the burning hunger overcame her fears, and she fell upon the roasted fowl and succulent fruits._

Hoping to break the spell he always felt descend upon him when he was in her presence and to put some distance between them, he refused now to look at her; focusing on his own gnawing hunger instead, he suggested they both needed food before they continued.

Sookie agreed, wondering what Eric was truly thinking. Exasperating beast; why were men always so reluctant to tell you their thoughts? Could it be true that food, sex, sleep, and in later life, regular bowel movements and cholesterol counts, actually constituted the majority of their mental activity?

No way; not a man she knew would hesitate to share that type of information with her if he thought it would earn him an ounce of her sympathy and attention. Silly beasts.

"Sookie, l will take the back stairs to the kitchen and snare some grub for us. Back in a flash, " he blurted.

And then Eric was gone, and she was left to sift through her own thoughts about what he had told her. Could she live if something happened to him? Did she even wish to? Could he read that emotion too, her desire to be with him and only him, from her scent cues? She suspected he could, and had. Was that why he had pulled away from her?

After pacing the room for what seemed like hours without him, she heard Eric's rap on the door and raced to unlock it. He'd returned, his arms laden with bowls, jars, and foil-wrapped shapes resembling turkey breast and a ham. Being Eric, he'd not forgotten the condiments or utensils. The food smelled delicious, and yes, she was starving. Still, while he had an enormous amount of food, she was once again relieved that none of it appeared to be struggling.

_When Beast finally revealed himself to Beauty, he stepped slowly from the shadows to stand in full view. He was dressed in old-fashioned garments, the jacket bearing a rich ermine collar. Her Beast's long arms ended in gnarled claws, one of which he kept tucked out of sight. His legs were long and well-formed; his bearing was regal, the shape of his head noble and intelligent with a very kind countenance._

Sitting together on the plush rug in the center of his room, her head now nestled lightly into his shoulder, she chewed on her turkey sandwich with mayo with a gusto unbecoming one carrying a few extra pounds. She grimaced at that thought and the large dollop of mayo that had landed in the center of the tee-shirt borrowed from Dan the Elf what felt like months ago.

Ugh--when had she last had a bath? In his own nod to normalcy, Eric had found and donned a pair of old jeans during his brief sojourn to the kitchen. The unexpected lull in their activities encouraged her to reflect on _what she really knew_ about her distant, but momentarily sated companion; not just the surface qualities but what sort of man he was and might become.

The only member of Eric's family she'd met was Niall, a grand sort of being, Wolf-man or not. Even she could recognize a person of importance in Niall. She vaguely wondered how old he might be.

The son was likely to be made of the same stuff as the father, she figured. He might live a really long time, whereas she would have only a normal life span. Still, when she thought of sharing his bed for however long they might have together, she wanted him. She would awaken every morning to his warm smile and the inevitable question in his eyes. The thought of spending the free hours of every day with him was enticing, there was no question she would take the years and savor them. If he'd let her.

_But it was the kindness that shone from his eyes that touched Beauty's young heart._

She spoke first. "Eric, thank you for the food. It was so thoughtful of you." Sookie scooted closer and rubbed the tip of her nose in a soft caress down his cheek. She let her emotions surface, certain the scent of her hormones would tell him everything she wanted him to know.

She was right. The open, smiling face he turned to her had become so dear to her; it was a kind face, a good and welcoming face, reflecting that its Owner was a creature who did not hide behind lies and worthless boasts. She would never have to wonder if he meant what he said. He might not tell her everything, but she believed that he would always share what knowledge he could with her.

"_Beast, I have watched as you have taken such good care of me. My sisters were ungrateful wenches. Come to me." Shocked by his own need and fearful of how he would react to her kindness, the Beast murmured his apologies and left her alone in the Great Hall._

But still he hesitated. "Sookie, I would have you with me always, but it isn't fair for me to make such statements. My own future is now uncertain; I'm not confident my Sire can…" He stumbled over the next words. "I don't know if he can get the I.S.T. members to dismiss the charges against me. Technically, I guess I am guilty. You really do know far too much about our Supe world. Pam might be implicated too, or called to give evidence against me." He paused and swallowed before continuing. "I also had to do something a few decades back that, if it were to re-surface, would be certain to earn me a very severe sentence. Possibly of the eternal variety." He turned away again, but she'd caught the sorrow flooding his eyes.

"What was it, Eric? Tell me, please?" How many times had she asked that of him over the last few days? Rarely had it yielded much information, but she had to continue trying.

"It had to be done; Niall demanded it. But I'll pay the price for it."

He stood up then, again turning away from her, and retreated to sink into a deep generously-sized leather armchair pushed against the wall. He was now sitting several feet from the nest they had built up around them on the floor as they'd eaten their purloined feast. Alone and surrounded by the remains of their meal and wrapped in the patterned quilt Eric had pulled from the railing at the end of the bed, Sookie suddenly felt very forlorn.

_Finally, Beast approached his Beauty. He knelt carefully before her, closing his eyes, and waited for the touch of her lips against his, hoping the curse would truly be lifted._

"What is it, Eric?" If he wouldn't come to her, she'd go to him; she was a modern girl and didn't believe in waiting for the man to make the first move. Stretching as she stood and still facing him, she dropped the quilt on the floor. After aimlessly pacing around the mess they'd made, she finally marched over to stand silently by the side of his chair; his eyes had hungrily followed each of her movements but now refused to meet her gaze.

Frustrated by his lack of reaction, she bent her knee and shifted her stance until she was able to drop slowly into his lap, the aggressor in this exchange. She straddled him as her eyes remained fixed on his face, willing him to look at her. Her bare ass felt amazing pressed against the soft well-worn jean material; she relished the contact with her Wolf even as she…

_Beauty looked kindly into his rough face, scarred from his many battles, and cupped her hand around his chin. Touching her lips to his forehead, she whispered the endearments she felt for the tortured man before her, trapped in the Beast's form._

…wondered what she should do next to comfort Eric. He seemed broken, not like the sexy Beast who had saved her from the vines; or held her tightly, jumping from the roof of a building to escape the Rogue Vamps; or tied up the hungry female Vampire assassin in the back of a pick-up. This Eric was pensive and leery of the uncertain future he faced at the hands of the Supe tribunal.

Couldn't she help him? Seeing Eric suffering, even if only in anticipation of being disciplined, was unbearable. She wasn't sure exactly what he feared might occur during the I.S.T. meeting, but she knew she felt guilty as all hell about it.

For in fact, wasn't she the one responsible for his predicament? She was the True Human in the mix, and he had evidently screwed-up by revealing himself and the Supe world to her.

Not to mention the actual screwing. She'd enjoyed that, but wasn't she still missing a key element? Why was he so worried now? Did it have anything to do with her blood? Frick, she hated the whole sanguine fixation of the various Supes she'd met. All of them appeared to be in the grip of the same mindless obsession—and it wasn't warranted, in her opinion. Maybe she needed to attend the I.S.T. meeting and offer them a little Human-type advice about moving on and taking up new interests. And slowly, a plan began to form; if Pam agreed to assist her with it, she just might succeed.

_And then it was time for The Kiss. Would Beauty be pure of heart, did she truly love him? Would the caress of her full lips across his, the tip of her tongue flicking against his mouth as he parted his lips for her, the clutching of his form to her much smaller, slighter figure…would it be enough? Was it possible she loved him?_

Right now, she had her mate to console. Not that she was without ideas.

Picking up the hem of her too-short tee-shirt and lifting it over her head to throw it behind her, she prepared to offer comfort and distraction to her Wolf in the time-honored manner between Lovers. And he accepted it, grateful for the beguilement.

His jeans were soon unbuttoned and pulled down over his hips to settle past his knees, as she fell upon him, sliding her tongue over his heated skin, stopping only to nip the private muscled flesh as her fingers hooked around the long silken length of his rapidly hardening penis. Sliding her palm up and over the foreskin, she tenderly split the sensitive slit at the end of each long glide, reveling as Eric jerked from the sensation each time she did so.

Unwilling to wait now, she moistened her lips before slipping them over the blood-red glans, sucking hard just once before releasing him to lightly lick at the moisture dripping from the tip. She savored the delicious now-familiar taste of Eric for a moment, and then took her time as she eased him as far down her throat as she could without choking, her free hand finding its way back up to his sensitive nipple to pinch and pull without mercy.

Entranced by his murmured vocalizations of satisfaction at her repeated actions, she quickly backed off from swallowing his cock, choosing instead to circle her thumb and index finger to massage over the ridged band that girded his engorged penis. Her mate responded eagerly to her loving touches, his hips beginning to lift slightly and reflexively sink back into the leather as he closed his eyes to concentrate more fully on the sensations.

She pleasured him like that for several minutes before abandoning the massage to return to gently sucking on the shiny glans, breaking the suction only to flick her tongue against the sensitive underside. She smiled around the erect length filling her mouth when Eric finally collected himself sufficiently to settle his palms beneath her breasts and began dragging the edge of his nails over her peaked nipples. That small action was enough to trigger the vaginal lubrication he'd need when he entered her; she knew they were so close now.

The additional stimulation began overloading his sensory receptors; Eric's moans of appreciation grew in volume even as he twisted slightly to lessen the suction of her lips on his overly-sensitized cock. Ready for him to take her now, she ceased all movement and straightened her spine as his hands responded to her mute acquiescence, releasing her tits and settling on her hips to position her over the tip of his erection, glistening from both her attentions and his own desire.

The room was still cool; the sun filtering through the narrow gaps in the drapes was the only source of illumination. Staring into his gleaming eyes, painted in multiple shades of wanton need, she allowed him to slowly fill her, thrusting up into her as she remained motionless above him. Only after he was fully sheathed inside her, did she sigh softly and push him back down into the pliable leather cushion.

Instinct taking over, she began rocking back and forth over his body as both of them were instantly drawn into the breathless melding of two sets of parted lips and twining tongues, four hands gliding effortlessly across the surface of the single shape formed by their joining, each unselfishly seeking only the best means of release for the other. To give and to share; these greatest of the World's pleasures passed freely between the two of them.

And in that purest of moments was shared adoration and satisfaction, groaning and gratification, a primal seeking and a joyous acceptance, male unto female. It was a blossoming of all that was natural and good.

_And it was…yes, it was enough. And she did love him, for what passed as an eternity._

* * *

A/N: Was that what you expected? I hope you enjoyed it.

* * *

Happy hugs to GaijinVamp for loaning me Leif from her _Queen Sookie_ FF story. Boy just doesn't get the loving he deserves, IMHO. Just in case I wasn't clear about it, Leif's missed companion Fifi works _with_ the tigers. Viking Leif is an important person in this 'verse.


	16. Ch 15: Revelations

A/N: Charlaine Harris owns all of her characters. Evil genius that she is, she has created the Sookieverse for our pleasure.

I gratefully acknowledge beta reader VampLover1's** thoughtful advice and assistance re: all things FF. When you find errors, I must claim them. **She is the 1st Place Drama Winner in the recent Dead Pan contest with _The Secret Life of Eric Northman_—read it!

And hugs to GaijinVamp for the loan of Leif.

So, chickadees, let's see: where the heck are we in this story? *blushes*

**Plot summary:** (feel free to skip this if you have a memory like an elephant)

_Jason has been abducted by Alcide the Vamp, Eric the Were is in trouble with the IST over violating the Prime Directive (refer to the Prologue) and has contaminated Sookie in some way, Vampire Leonardo is still finally dead, and Sookie has a plan for saving Eric (which she hasn't revealed—impatient, much?) _

_Niall, Eric's Sire, is pissed about everything. He has gathered the Weres at his bunker, and Demon-Elf Pam is around as well to stir the pot. We met the lonely Vamp Leif; he and the lovely shopaholic Vamp assassin Amelia are soundly sleeping. It's Sunday afternoon and time's a-wasting—Sookie has to go back to work on Monday at Belks. We ended the humongous Ch. 14 on a hot little lemon—you may wish to re-read it? js_

Thanks to all who have recently fav'd and alerted this fic—I owe it to you _all _to finish up before my story completely fades from your memory. _Thank you._ We begin with a look inside post-coital Beast's, erm, Eric's head.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

* * *

_From Chapter 14: Beauty and Her Beast:_ And in that purest of moments between them was their shared adoration and satisfaction, groaning and gratification, a primal seeking and a joyous acceptance, male unto female. It was a blossoming of all that was natural and good.

_And it was…yes, it was enough. And Sookie did love him, for what passed as an eternity._

* * *

_Post t_heir memorable, sweaty, marathon screwing session, Eric was grateful that his beloved Sookie was lost in slumber in his arms.

Regrettably, his own weary Were-ish mind refused to allow him the same escape.

He should be sleeping the sleep of a well-sated, contented Wolf; instead he stifled another groan as his leg muscles twitched and his collarbone chimed in with a familiar ache.

Meanwhile, feverish thoughts of the uncertain future continued to torment him.

If he wasn't a full-blooded Were… Well, no _human _male could muster the reserves he was using to remain both silent and nearly motionless as he mentally reviewed the rush of events of the last seventy-two hours.

First, he'd feel a **surge of elation** at finding his mate after more than a century alone, only to have it dashed by the **gut-churning anger** he felt over the price he'd have to pay for claiming Sookie. Then he'd experience a nearly **crushing wave of anxiety** as he contemplated the likely forms the inevitable punishment would take for him... After which he'd **question the wisdom** of fixing on a True Human with a life span so much less than his own, followed by a **sensual memory **of his eager tongue pushing against her parted lips… On and on it went; torture of a kind with which he was unfamiliar and ill-prepared to handle.

_And for which he could find no resolution. He should be out howling; instead he found himself tightly muzzled and staring down the double barrels of the worst challenge he'd ever faced._

For in winning his True Human mate's trust, Eric had exposed both himself and Pam to censure and discipline from the International Supernatural Tribunal's nastiest Vamp, Leostet.

And with Leostet in charge? He knew his chances of a reprieve were non-existent: his Sire Niall wouldn't throw around the term "that rat bastard" when referring to the French Vamp without serious, centuries-long provocation from the Frenchman.

In any event, this little I.S.T. witch hunt would be very 'personal' indeed. Save a space on the barn wall for his skin—it was about to be flayed right off his back and hold the anesthetic.

_Fuck it: happily-ever-after_ and _the I.S.T._ should never be uttered in the same breath—it was like asking for the gods to strike you down! Akin to painting a giant bulls-eye on your backside…

And should any evidence linking him to the disappearance of a headless Vampire Leonardo surface during tonight's witch hunt, this Werewolf could expect a very painful death meted out by the I.S.T.

After the best sex of his life with the perfect female, instead of being re-energized and thinking of initiating round two, he was now thoroughly depressed and limp as a stalk of aging asparagus, minus the buds.

So, if tonight's events unfolded as he feared, this True Were was resolved he would not submit to anyone. He would go out fighting, claw and fang.

_Claw and fang. Not much in the Supe world could touch or restrain an angry True Were. _

But first, he would secure his Sire's iron-clad agreement to protect his Sookie.

He was raised to be an honorable Wolf, but he knew he had only reluctantly returned to his Sire's house at Niall's insistence because of his mate.

Now that Sookie was too tired to be peppering him with questions (his inspired and pleasurable method for achieving this rare but blissful state had panned out,) he began to relax but continued to let his thoughts wander aimlessly. After indulging in some pleasant Sookie-centered fantasies in which he played a major role, he was reminded once again of the many fantastic stories and legends floating around the Supernatural world.

One of his favorites was the certainty among Supes that when someone special was needed to fulfill a select purpose, such as the right hero to slay an out-of-control dragon, or a genius to invent a cure for a deadly contagion, that individual would magically appear in their midst. And it was always a dramatic sort of reveal; the individual would have been recently imbued with the necessary powers, or have been in training since birth for the very task needed, doing so under everyone's radar until unexpectedly stepping forth with the right skill set and saving the day.

Even the Humans had incorporated diluted versions of this concept into their popular culture, keeping the tales of Arthur and Merlin alive for centuries.

Eric knew he was no King Arthur. Lancelot? Maybe.

But was there someone 'out there' who could step in and save him? Because he knew if the Vamp Leostet had him executed, his Werewolf father Niall would declare war against the Vamp contingent. And all the North American Weres would line up for the fight.

All the Werewolves he knew lived for the next brawl, scrap, fray, melee, slugfest, tussle, rumble, hand-to-hand… He stopped himself, clamping down fast on the vivid memories his words inspired; he was starting to get _hard _again, and that wouldn't help his tenuous situation.

In fact, while such a war _would_ be a bloody event, it wouldn't be so in the good way that Vamps and Weres could both enjoy. The two groups were just too evenly matched, physically; too many of his friends and cousins would be joining Skoll in the afterlife. He'd miss them. _No loss_ on the finally-dead Vamps, though.

He sucked in a shallow breath at his next thought.

And if his love, Sookie, was left alone during such a war? She would be exposed and vulnerable to the scrutiny of his fellow Weres, or the wiles of the Rogue Vampires searching for her.

Now he just felt sick. She was safe when he was with her, but how long after he was confined or chained or…worse, before someone snatched her for reasons that would only lead to her death or dismemberment?

A gruesome slideshow flashed against the inside of his closed eyelids as he recalled various Were bodies he'd seen over the decades. And he'd been powerless to stop those deaths, too.

His grip involuntarily tightened on the woman he knew saw him as her hero. If only he could measure up; but in fact there were so few things he could do to protect her, and fuck all if his Sire did not agree to help him.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest. He finally had his mate, and he was about to lose her for a certain dead-man beheading of one Vampire Leonardo incident performed before she was even born.

_Yeah._ So what if he'd definitely broken the Prime Directive? In his favor, it was a big-ass piece of Supe legislation designed to ensnare unsuspecting Weres like him, just following the decrees of his Pack Leader. And double whammy to him, his Sire. As if he had any choice in the matter.

Actually, a case could be made that he was still within the boundaries set by the _corollary _directives, because Sookie was safe at present (not _accidentally dead_, for example, as had often happened in the past) and… He huffed in frustration; that damn Directive business _was_ noticeably vague in its specifics when looking for a loophole.

_Unfortunately, there was nothing vague about the beheading of the Vampire Leonardo_. In truth, he had immensely enjoyed that entire assignment, and most especially the moment when his sword sliced deep into the tendons, his claws tangled in the Italian's curling hair as he yanked…

Controlling his breathing, Eric calmed himself this time by allowing just a tiny full-body wiggle starting at his toes. It felt so good and distracted him from the image of the full, luscious, round, welcoming silvery orb floating above his head in the heavens, once again invading his thoughts, calling his wolven-nom.

The moon: she was invisible during the daylight, but still exerted her enormous pull on him.

_Shit._ It was his time of the month and wildly inconvenient when he needed to be concentrating on his Vampire problems.

His swirling thoughts settled back on the likely reactions of his Sire to the forthcoming I.S.T. charges against his True Were son.

In all fairness, Niall _had _been a little perturbed at Eric's initiative at the time of the beheading of Leonardo; he'd been expecting his son would return with the Vampire so their Were cousin Vane Kattalakis could perform some experiments. Although the Vampire himself had naturally been expendable, the genius that was the man as a resource for Vane's work would have been invaluable. Eric had to admit he had slightly screwed-up, but it had been worth it. Or so he thought at the time.

In retrospect, Eric knew that offing another Supe without provocation was cause for punishment _if_ one was caught. And the artist/scientist had been a high-profile Vamp.

_Possibly not one of his better decisions. _

Eric gave a noticeable grimace, one that Sookie would have responded to with a million questions had she been awake. His emotions had been whip-sawed so many times over the last few days, even the last hours, that if he'd been a girl, he'd probably have enjoyed a good cry.

But, he was a guy. A Wolf-Man, in fact. Such easy relief was forever denied him.

As Sookie gave a small whimper in her sleep, he felt again that swelling sensation behind his ribcage. It reminded him how rapidly his circumstances had been altered since Vampire Will had been assassinated over a century-old forgotten bad debt, and Niall had assigned Sookie's care to him. He readily recognized the physical sensation now; it was love for this True Human. Perhaps he could tell her while she was safely sleeping?

"Sookie, I know this is very early, but I think…_I am in love you_." He was whispering; no need to let the other super-sharp ears in Niall's Buckhead mansion in on his secret. Pam, who'd arrived earlier, would never stop teasing him once she had confirmation of his affections for this quirky, beautiful, sexy woman who trusted him implicitly. And who held down a modern job and was as independent as he was, if not more so. Females in his limited experience were either clingers or users; Sookie was neither and it was the sweetest of balms to have found her.

"Agreed." The response from his sleeping Beauty was unexpected and rather gruff, startling him as it reminded him that she appeared to be carrying his essence in her blood. Could it have been any clearer that the gods intended them to be together? No matter how short a time he might have with her, it would definitely be worth it.

Unperturbed, he wondered what she was agreeing to with that response. One way to find out.

"Will you mate to me, Sookie?" Eric asked softly, wondering how she could be both sleeping and yet answering his questions.

"Yes, Lord." This time the response was warmer, sweeter.

He felt himself once again respond physically to her, her soft flesh pressed against his growing member just an added bonus to the ache that was seemingly always _seething below the surface _when he was with her.

Pam's sharp knock interrupted his half-formed plans for fully awakening his mate. He sighed and called quietly, "Enter."

She did, with her usual aplomb.

"Smells like a bordello in here, Eric." A small moue flitted over Pam's face as the Demon stood over his bed. "And if I, a mere Demon, can smell this, imagine what your Sire Niall and the other Weres are gleaning about you from the room down the hall….?"

"Shut it, Demon!" Eric snapped as Sookie again snuggled deeper into his embrace. He regretfully disentangled himself, and rolled naked from the bed. He and Pam shared no false modesty among friends.

Stretching in relief, he held his index finger to his lips and motioned to the door, re-draping the coverlet over Sookie's form before stepping away and grabbing his shorts. He stepped into them; then he and Pam scooted out of his bedroom and stood, facing each other in the hall. Pam's steadfast affection for him was clearly visible in her expression.

"So, is it official, little Wolf?" Pam asked him gently after several moments of silence between the pair.

Eric cocked an eyebrow at his Guardian. "Official, demon? You've known I'm a Were for more than a century, now…"

"Oh, snap, Eric. You're in love, right?" It wasn't really a question.

"If I am, doesn't change anything, does it? I'm sure my Sire has informed you of my dire outlook. I'll do my best to protect you, dear friend, but the I.S.T. is looking for reasons to punish me, I guess. The head Vampire Leostet won't rest until he has severely crippled the Wolves, and what better target than Niall's son for his vengeance?" He finished with another grimace, his pleasure at sharing his altered emotional state with Pam washed away by the reality of his imminent punishment and the likely Were/Vamp war.

He swallowed, but gave voice to his other fear. "And that will lead my Sire to declare war on the Vamps, and you know it. So why don't you look more unhappy? The Demons will be forced to choose sides again, as your Kind did during the thirteenth century. And look how that very minor skirmish turned out… Contemporary humans still shudder over the fallout from events they know only as the Inquisition."

Mysteriously, Pam's cheerful expression didn't falter during his little confession. She looked at him for a full minute before responding, letting him first know she understood the gravity of his fears.

She patted his stiff shoulder, an affectionate gesture, before continuing. "Eric, relax that pinched mouth of yours. Your Sire has a plan, as always. The Rat Bastard Leostet has been sent on a diversionary mission by the Vampire Count to squelch some embarrassing revelations over in Romania. Niall's good friend Vampire Leif will be in charge of the I.S.T. formal review of the evidence."

Pam couldn't hide her jubilance at what she clearly deemed good news, and waited for Eric's acquiescence to her assessment. She was doomed to disappointment, of course.

"_Leif again_." Eric muttered in disgust. "First Niall, now you, too." He stopped for a moment, various emotions ghosting over his features as Pam waited patiently for him to continue. "Will you agree to take Sookie and hide her away for me if Niall refuses to do so?" Eric made it clear he could sense no rationale for optimism in Pam's words.

"It won't be necessary, Eric. The I.S.T. will likely meet this evening to accommodate the Vamps timetable, and you can…"

Pam was becoming just a little irritated with her boy as he once again cut into her flow.

"Listen, Pam. If _I_ was a member of the I.S.T, after reviewing the evidence, I'd probably find myself guilty of breaching the Prime Directive, although there were extenuating circumstances. You know I did it, right?"

As she nodded slowly, Eric continued with renewed energy. "So, my future is uncertain. I don't want the I.S.T. calling Sookie to give evidence against me, and then wiping her memory of me." He squelched the urge to whine, delivering his next thought as devoid of emotion as he could. "I want her to remember me, Pam." He hesitated before delivering the next word. _"Always."_

Pam's expression did not change, but her words were electric none-the-less. "She has been changed in more ways than one, Eric. I doubt her memories could even be wiped; once a Human falls for a Supe, she becomes highly resistant to Supe manipulations about her mate."

Pam hesitated before continuing. "And you aren't acknowledging the most obvious change; her blood seems to share some characteristics of your own, right? Isn't that what you told Niall earlier?" Pam waited for his reply, intuiting that he would be loathe to acknowledge the strange form of Sookie's blood contamination, however unique it might be to their world.

Eric just shook his head in resignation. "Friend, take her and go while she sleeps." He visibly straightened, moving to leave the hallway and join Niall as distraction against the loss of Sookie's presence and all it implied, but his heart and his head still hurt.

"As you wish." Pam called as she watched Eric retreat toward the sounds of the other Weres gathered in Niall's house. She would not argue with her charge. She had her own plans, and felt she was wasting time with the stubborn Wolf. It would be a few hours until the Euro Vamps awakened from their daily beauty rest. She moved quietly into Eric's bedroom and retrieved the sleeping True Human and an extra-large man's black tee and wrap to cover her.

Crooning an ancient Demon song to deepen Sookie's slumber, she moved stealthily until she had her safely settled in Eric's Jeep. Pam wasted no time in putting many miles between them and the Buckhead suburb. She hadn't stopped to assess how Niall would take the news she had removed the True Human from his compound. But then, Eric would have to defend his decisions to his Sire, not her.

She had only to save Eric's ass from the big, bad I.S.T.

As the details of her plan swirled in her thoughts, she heard Sookie finally stir, stretch, and yawn.

"Pam, where's Eric?" a tremulous Sookie queried the Elf beside her, the grim expression on Pam's face not lost on the Human.

"Back at his Sire's as they plot their strategy for tonight's I.S.T. hearing. And a warm hello to you, as well, little weibchen."

Ignoring Pam's chiding tone, Sookie went into full pouting mode; why wasn't she there with Eric?

But for once she knew the answer; he'd sent her away for her protection, and Pam was only acting on his orders.

Remembering what she and Eric had been doing, she was surprised to find herself clothed once again in one of Eric's black t-shirts. The incongruous attire triggered other non-Supernatural World thoughts; she'd need to call her employer, Belks' cosmetic department, and take a sick day for Monday, no doubt.

No way was she going to be able to concentrate on selling eye shadows and lipstick when Eric was in danger.

If only she had her mobile, the call would be at least one task she could mark off her list. Then, maybe she'd still have a job come Tuesday.

Meanwhile, there was her idea for saving Eric. She hadn't shared it with Pam, because…well, no point in having Pam outright reject it 'just because.'

"Pam, how can the Wolves attend the I.S.T. hearing if there is a full moon? Isn't this an unforeseen glitch?"

"Not with the help of an interpreter." Pam shifted sideways in her seat and gave her an appraising look. It was as if she'd forgotten Sookie wasn't really one of the Supes and didn't know all the rules.

"Who will interpret for Eric?" _And can I watch_? she thought.

"Standard practice, child." It wasn't much of an answer, but not atypical for Pam.

"Where are we going, and what time is the hearing? I'd like to have some clean clothes before we head out." Sookie assumed she would be present; for a start, she could give evidence in Eric's favor. Whatever it was he needed from her…

"I'm to protect you for now. Clean clothes, you ask? Okay, I can make a detour to your house."

They rode in silence for a few more minutes, before Sookie decided to try again.

"Have you seen my mobile? I'd like to check for messages and make a call to my employer."

"Under the back seat, along with your purse, and your dead relative's pearls."

Wincing at that last phrase, Sookie dove back into the passenger area, noting that Eric's performance gear for _Clancy's_ had been removed as her fingers molded around first her bag with the pearls and then scrambled to find the smaller shape. Luckily, Eric's Jeep was kept relatively clean and her hand emerged moments later with the longed-for item. With a dead battery, however, it was all but useless for now.

"Now I'm eager to get home, Pammy." Why did the mobile make her admittedly bizarre circumstances suddenly feel a little more normal? She wondered how many calls she had missed over the last few days.

Thirty minutes later, they pulled onto Lupine Avenue, and Pam stopped the Jeep just at the corner of her duplex, a thoughtful expression settling over her usually ingenuous features.

"Are we walking?" Sookie was confused. She could see her house; the driveway was empty except for her car.

"You've had a visitor or perhaps more than one…" Pam's voice trailed off as she shut off the engine and with it the air conditioner. It wouldn't take long for the car to heat up in the Georgia sunshine. Sookie began to crank down her window, but Pam stilled her movement.

"Let me check first. Lock the doors after me, Sookie." And the Demon slithered out, faster than Sookie's eye could follow.

_Awesome trick_, she thought.

When she looked up again after locating the lock buttons, she could no longer find Pam. Perhaps she had moved into the tall Fetterbush hedge to search for her visitors?

Several minutes passed, agonizingly slow as Sookie wondered exactly what Pam was seeking. More worrisome, could she have been taken, and Sookie missed it?

It was a small relief when Pam eventually emerged from the back of the duplex; the dark look on her face visible even from Sookie's distant vantage point. What had she found?

Pam motioned to her to leave the car and join her on the duplex's front lawn. Sookie didn't waste any time; she met the Elf-Demon, observing the swirling neon colors had reappeared in her eyes. This time, though, it wasn't as startling. Just something she'd learned to accept without question.

"A Vampire, I think," Pam offered by way of explanation. "If Eric was here, he'd probably be able to tell you what the Supe was wearing and who he ate last night, but my senses are not as sharp." She sighed in frustration.

Sookie knew it was bad; Pam clearly had something else to tell her.

"Child, there was also someone else here."

She waited for an explanation that was not forthcoming.

"Just tell me, Pam."

In answer, she got a question. "No. Let's charge your phone; that may provide some answers." They stepped out of the early afternoon heat, escaping into the cool confines of the rental. Sookie wanted to know if they were safe, and Pam opined that as the visitor had been a Vamp, he was likely sleeping at present.

Thirsty, Sookie grabbed a Diet Coke, offered the same to Pam, who accepted, and then retreated to her bedroom with the explanation that she was mad for a shower, to which Pam nodded. "I'll wait here for your phone to charge. Don't take too long. We are still in crisis management mode."

Rolling her eyes, Sookie gathered her clothes and sped through her shower, thinking that a long hot soaking in the tub would have been nice, in spite of the outside Decatur heat. She chose clothing that was too warm for the 100-plus temperatures, but anticipated she'd be indoors the majority of the day and into the night. Wearing a black silk halter dress that zipped up the side, and matching low heels, she pulled a deep tomato-red three-quarter length button-less jacket from the closet with matching bag. Perfect!

Her still damp hair was a disaster, but then again, that seemed to be one problem that either Eric or Pam could easily fix. She clipped it back away from her face, and was ready in less than fifteen minutes. Too bad there wasn't an Olympic event for "getting ready." Her time today would definitely have qualified her for the semi-finals.

Emerging from the bedroom, Pam was holding her phone up, clearly intending for Sookie to check it. Her expression changed to one of glee as she took in Sookie's outfit.

"You are dressed like a large ladybug. Was that your intention?"

Sookie snorted_; that was just so Pam_, focusing on Sookie's outfit instead of the big picture—a plan to save her Wolfish future husband!

Ignoring the Elf-Demon's intended dig, she reached for her mobile and found several messages from a number she didn't recognize. When she played the first one, she realized Jason had been trying to reach her. It had been a while since they had spoken, but as usual his timing was so fail.

"Just my brother, Jason. I'll call him later; no need to listen to his other messages now…" her sentence trailing off as she watched Pam's expression change to one of chagrin. "_What_?"

"Try him?" Pam asked carefully.

Both of them heard the telltale mobile's music just beneath the front window of the duplex. Pam retrieved the device as Sookie sat silently, refusing to accept the only reason his phone could be in the shrubbery outside her window.

Pam returned, showing Sookie that the last call on the phone was early that morning to her number. She smiled sadly at Sookie but remained silent.

Not wanting to understand, Sookie was forced to ask the question as Pam's eyes, returned to normal irises, remained fastened on her.

"Did the Vampire take him?"

"I suspect so," was Pam's terse reply.

"How do we get him back?" It was meant to be a calm query, but Sookie's voice wasn't obeying just then, and it came out as a shriek.

"Eric will have a plan, but we will need his Wolf-nose to track the Vampire. I'll contact him…"

Sookie cut-in. "Please don't ask him, Pam, not today."

Pam ignored Sookie's plea, and focused her thoughts on Eric. He was much further away from her than they usually were on any given day, but if he was listening, he might pick up on Pam's hard-wired connection to him. As his Protectress, they had a special ability, part of the Demon debt acknowledgement ceremony, granted to them by her demon Sire.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be otherwise occupied. _(Probably getting reamed by Niall for letting Sookie leave the Compound,_ Pam thought.) Pam quickly debated the pros and cons of silently screeching his name at Demon-frequency, one of the many perks passed along to her from her Demon-father's genes.

However, as with all things Supe, invoking her special abilities too often led to unintended consequences. And at the moment, she just wasn't in the mood to deal with unwanted amorous advances from Demons popping in to woo or annoy her once they picked up on her screech. Rather than risk another curious Demon poking around in her business, she finally resolved herself to the tedious necessity of returning to retrieve Eric with his super-sensitive tracking abilities. It wasn't part of Eric's plan for Sookie that day, but what choice did Pam have when it came to his mate's family?

She'd catch hell if she failed to inform him of all-things-Sookie, and brother-abduction was right up there on Eric's "Sookie" meter of notable events.

"I'll stop by my house, Sookie, for a change of clothes, and then we'll return to Niall's compound. Bring some extra clothing in a bag with you; I don't know how today's events will fall."

The trip to Pam's place was mostly uneventful. Pam's ongoing efforts to reach Eric through regular channels had been unsuccessful; her irritation growing with each failed attempt. At one point, Sookie forcefully suggested they call his Sire's BellSouth land line to reach Eric. Pam seemed to take a vicious delight in informing her that the head of the Americas Supernatural Council had a silent number; only a Human would think you could mistakenly crank call Niall d'Varg some night and be speaking with a Werewolf. After that, Sookie offered no more suggestions.

Once they arrived, Pam refused to leave Sookie alone in the Jeep, so Sookie followed her inside and waited as Pam quickly retrieved her clothing and tried Eric's mobile, without results.

It was the first time Sookie had been inside a Demon's house, and she was inspecting every inch, while trying to remain nonchalant about her burning curiosity. The first thing she noticed was the smell, a very faint scent of rotten eggs. She thought about asking if Pam's house might have a gas leak, but stopped herself in time, recalling that Pam had a much more sensitive nose than any Human.

_Whew!_ _That could have been an uncomfortable moment_.

Perhaps all Demons had a touch of rotten egg-smell about them? Odd she hadn't noticed it earlier. However, she really had no desire to test this theory any time soon. It was likely that not all Demons would be as pleasant as Pam when quizzed about such a subject. And Pam was no push-over, either.

However, other than the smell, it could have been any suburban house in any prosperous Southern city. The chintz, organza padded chairs and sofa in soft feminine colors were unexpected, considering Pam's more rocker-centered clothing, but Sookie was beyond being astonished by anything Supe-related anymore. In truth, the familiar furnishings and cozy atmosphere were more than 'normal,' and she needed to focus on Eric, and the idea she had for saving him. It was time to risk Demon-wrath and reveal all to Pam. She'd start small, of course.

"Pam, how safe do you think Jason is with the Vampire who captured him?"

"Judging by the time of his last call on his mobile being just about sunrise, and the lack of any evidence of violence, I suspect he will be safe while we scent and track the Vampire to his daytime lair. Provided we do arrive before dark, we should be able to retrieve Jason and dispatch with the Vamp."

Pam stopped and gave Sookie a sympathetic look. "If the Vamp had only been focused on a live meal, he would not have bothered with removing your brother Jason from the premises."

Sookie nodded in relief. Her next question was certain to be more difficult.

"If we cannot find him before dark, then what happens?" She'd really wanted to ask exactly how one '_dispatched'_ with a Vampire—stakes? Beheading? Fire? Instead, she'd settled on the easier question.

"Sookie, not all Vampires are dangerous to Humans. Look at your ex, Will Compton. Did he ever bite you?" At Sookie's hooded glance, she continued more firmly. "Certainly, he never drained you."

Pam's explanation was useful, but Sookie didn't trust it. Pam had offered it much too easily, as if determined to make her accept the logic of it.

'So, could this have been a Rogue Vamp plan to distract us while Eric is being investigated? Are the Rogue Vamps allied with the I.S.T.?"

"Sookie, I've considered that idea, but both Eric and I rejected any link between the Rogues and the I.S.T, even before your brother was snatched."

Just as Sookie was about to launch her next query, Pam reflexively held up a finger. Her middle finger.

"Sookie, I don't possess all the answers, and I find your endless questions so annoying when I am trying to think." Pam gave her a small, apologetic smile to soften her words.

"Are you saying I should stop?" Pam held her temper in check, instead inclining her head in agreement.

"_Demon_, do not displease me." Pam shit Sookie an odd look at the unexpected response.

Sookie quickly recovered herself. "So, will Eric meet us at the gate to the Buckhead compound or will we have to…"

"Stop, please? He'll be outside waiting; I'll be able to contact him when we are closer to Niall's compound. Once we collect him, we'll return to your duplex and track the Vamp to retrieve Jason, but only if you stop asking me questions. Right?"

Sookie knew Pam's threat wasn't serious, but she resolved to not risk further irritating the Elf-Demon. She'd hold her idea for saving Eric in reserve for now; she wanted the Elf in her corner, not the Demon-half of Pam struggling to swallow her irritation and failing to do so.

As promised by Pam, her Wolf was waiting a block from Niall's compound; his slamming bod clothed in a fitted, casual black tee and True Religion jeans that left zero to the imagination. The Demon gave a graceful nod of her head to him, before executing that slithering move of hers into the back seat, Jeep motor still running.

Sookie snorted. Death sentence hanging over him or not, Eric would insist on driving, and Pam would indulge him.

But if Pam was okay with his behavior, she too could let slide a so admittedly minor macho failing.

Eric leaned into her for a quick kiss, slipping her a little tongue before changing gears and heading back to her duplex in Decatur.

"So you didn't recognize the scent, Pam?" Looking back at Sookie in consternation, he asked, "Didn't Pam have time to do a comb-out on you, lover?"

Before the Elf-Demon could reply to either burning question, Sookie broke in, absently running her fingers through her bangs. "**Irick,** I appreciate your concerns about my hopeless tresses..." She coughed, and continued. "But Eric, _I'll owe you forever _if you help me track down my missing brother Jason. Do you think he is part of this plot that seems to be developing, or was he just a victim of 'wrong place, wrong time' when the Vamp snatched him from my front yard?"

"Sookie, my dearest? Then it looks like _I'll own you forever_ when I retrieve your brother." Eric's accompanying smile was all that was male, smug, and totally obnoxious. Sookie momentarily considered withholding sex from him until his Supe-sized ego could be brought back to Earth, but then dismissed the idea.

She wasn't that foolish.

"Just answer my question, Wolf-man: sinister Vampire-plot, or something else?"

Frowning now, Eric left no doubt with his wordless response of his current opinion on all things Vampire.

Still, he felt it necessary to clarify.

"Never trust a Vamp. They are unreliable…"

Pam cut him off, admonishing him with a sharp reminder. "Don't forget Vampire Leif, Eric. And just how did Niall take the news I'd left with Sookie?"

"I've been unable to forget him for over a hundred years, Demon. Niall never stops talking about him." He paused, and added "Not well. I'd avoid being alone in a room with my Sire for the new few hours."

"Never forget, Little Wolf, that I am a Demon…"

Sookie tuned out the sounds of their wrangling as she reviewed what she'd just heard; had she detected a spot of jealousy in Eric's response? _Who was Leif to Eric?_ Unfortunately, as they continued indulging in their mock-squabbling, her brother Jason was being held against his will by a Vampire! And that was just the best case scenario.

"Hey, please, can we focus? My brother Jason has been snatched, and Eric is going before the I.S.T. tonight. Lots on our plate today, and, hmmmm, when exactly will the shift to Werewolf occur, darling?" Sookie needed clarification alright, but priorities first. She was unconsciously stroking his free hand, which he'd obligingly dropped off the steering wheel for her to reach.

"The moon has to be visible in the dark sky, and then I begin to feel the pull of her body on my soul."

Eric then ruined the evocative tone he had set when he continued with, "Or when I see the form of my favorite prey, such as deer, rabbits, dogs, cats, or voles, scent me and turn to flee in terror. That can start the change when we are 'this close' to sunset." He held up his thumb and finger to show just how 'close' he felt to changing into a Werewolf. A hair wouldn't have fit between them.

Sookie gulped. Again, more information than she really wanted.

Intent on changing the subject, she finally asked, "Eric, who is Leif?"

Eric's expression, often moody, changed from serious to completely sour. "She might as well know everything, Pam."

The Demon merely nodded, confusion apparent in her expression; even Sookie was afraid to say more.

She could only pray that by freezing in her seat, Eric would be encouraged to continue with his explanation.

And it worked! After a few moments, he forged ahead:

"Leif, acting head of the I.S.T., who will be passing sentence on me? Leif has been exalted during my entire existence for being nothing more than a reasonable, level-headed, and evidently miraculous example of Vampire-ingenuity." Eric gave a small, involuntary snarl, and Sookie couldn't help a rather large shiver that raced up her spine.

"Leif also happens to be Niall's full-Were son. He was turned at an early age by a Vampire with a particular vendetta against my Sire."

Sookie blinked as she considered the ramifications of Eric's revelation.

"So, Leif is your sibling?"

"My half-brother." There was a pause, "and I hate him."

Well now, that was totally unexpected. Even Pam had given a small gasp at that revelation.

And, more to the point, it threatened to derail Sookie's formerly unassailable plan to save her Wolf. She somehow couldn't see her possessive mate agreeing to his hated half-brother sucking her True-Human blood… She felt the first stirrings of a deep-rooted irritation with her hard-headed consort. She was Shala, corn maiden, after all.

* * *

A/N: Been a long time; I guess my muse ran off with his beautiful boyfriend. In atonement, I promise the next chapter will be up very soon. (Checks behind me and no, my fingers are not crossed) Going to tell me what you thought about it? Going to rip me a new one for taking so long to update? Either way…


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